Lion's Challenge
by wolfandwild
Summary: The Alliance celebrates! Having overcome the perils of war, traitors, and assassins, High King Varian Wrynn now prepares to wed Archmage Auriana Fenwild. But life on Azeroth is not always so simple, as a mysterious request from the Warchief of the Horde threatens to change everything…
1. Chapter One

**Here we go again! I can't say I ever expected to have written a series this long - the original story was meant to be a one shot - but here we are. A huge thank you to all my readers, old and new, you have no idea how much your readership and kind words are appreciated, and how much your encouragement inspires me to keep going.**

 _ **Lion's Challenge**_ **is the seventh story in the main arc of my _Lion of the Alliance_ series** **, and a direct sequel to _Lion's Rise_. If you are just discovering this series for the first time, I highly recommend starting at the beginning with _Lion's Trial_ (assuming you like a comprehensible progression to your stories).**

 **Rated M for violence, adult themes, and sexy stuff.**

* * *

 **Auriana**

Archmage Auriana Fenwild fiddled distractedly with her long black gloves, tugging and pressing at the fingers as she awaited the execution of one of the 'Defias' assassins who had so recently tried to end her life. She was nervous; more nervous than she had thought she might be, and it felt as if time were passing incredibly slowly as she cracked her knuckles over and over. Beneath the soft leather of her gloves shifted the filigree ring that marked her engagement to High King Varian Wrynn, though right now, their upcoming nuptials were one of the last things on her mind. Today was not about joy, or happiness, or even relief, but rather about secrets… and consequences.

The man waiting to die was not a real Defias rogue, as they had learned through Mathias Shaw's interrogations, though he _had_ been involved in the clandestine attempt to assassinate Anduin and Auriana and trigger an all-out war with the Horde. As far as the general citizenry of Stormwind were aware, however, he was the last of a rebel Defias group who had attempted to once again create trouble for the King of Stormwind. The public had been aghast to learn of the return of the 'Defias' threat, and the assassin's trial had been swift and conclusive. He had been kept under lock and key in SI:7 headquarters, and had only been brought to the Stockades at the last minute, less he reveal to anyone the true nature of his crimes. If the Alliance were to successfully hunt down what remained of the shadow group who were so determined to plunge Azeroth into war, it was imperative that their enemies believe them to be oblivious, at least for the time being.

Aside from Varian, Auriana was the only other person in attendance who knew what had really transpired in Stranglethorn and the Duskwood, and that today's execution was largely a ruse to disguise their knowledge of the war plot. Anduin had remained in the castle at his father's request, with Broll Bearmantle as his personal guard. It had been nearly four weeks since they had returned from their misadventures, though Varian still remained cautious. He had been doing his best to appear calm and relaxed in public, as if he were thoroughly convinced the threat were over, but in private he had taken considerable steps to ensure that his son and his betrothed were protected at all times. Varian had also attempted to persuade Auriana to remain in the Keep for the execution, but she had not been so easy to sway as Anduin.

After a short but intense argument, Auriana's stubbornness had prevailed, and Varian had reluctantly agreed to escort her to the Stockades. She now stood alone, however, warming her hands by a large brazier. It was a miserably cold day, and it was not all that much warmer indoors than out. Varian had remained at the front of the room, where a wooden platform had been raised for the execution, and he now paced pensively back and forth as the Stockades guards made their final preparations.

Auriana had a right to stand at his side, of course, but she had subtly declined in favour of taking a more private position at the very back of the dark atrium. The execution was a public affair, and the atrium was crammed full with people wanting to see the last of the 'Defias' lose his head. It had occurred to Auriana that the event may have attracted the guilty as well as the innocent, however, and that in amongst the crowd there may have been those who had been involved in the plot to lead the Alliance into war.

The Defias had been implicated in the assassination attempts as a ploy to mislead Varian and his SI:7 spies, and it made sense to Auriana that any traitors would want to see Varian for themselves, in order to judge the success of their ruse. She had therefore positioned herself not so that she had the best view of the execution, but rather the _crowd_ , and she scanned the room hawkishly as the last of the observers stepped inside. Quite a few members of the House of Nobles were in attendance, ostensibly to support their King as he executed a known traitor, though Auriana couldn't help but wonder how many of them were simply keeping up appearances.

After surviving several assassination attempts over the last year, she found it difficult not to see killers and conspirators in every corner. That said, while she had somewhat expected things to get worse after publicly announcing her engagement to Varian, things had been unusually quiet. She had been exceedingly busy; swept up in a veritable wave of wedding planning and preparations for her new role as queen, but there had not been so much as a whisper of danger for weeks. A number of would-be assassins had been killed during the recent incident in Duskwood, potentially including the ringleader, and in her more hopeful moments Auriana could almost believe that the imminent threat had passed.

There was most definitely _one_ man who was still a danger, however, and Auriana was surprised to see him now making his way towards her through the crowd. Duke Rohas Anguile was tall and slender, with grey hair and sharp, patrician features. He held himself with an air of thinly veiled contempt, and the crowd instinctively parted before him as he strode determinedly toward Auriana.

She noticed his approach at the last minute, and only narrowly choked down the fierce growl that rose in her throat at the sight of him. Anguile had funded the attempts on her life, and Anduin's; not because of any prevailing ideological belief on his behalf, but rather because he wanted them out of the way so that he could have a clear path to Varian - and the throne of Stormwind. Auriana's blood boiled to think of the pain he had put her through, but more than anything, she hated him most for what he had tried to do to Anduin. Fortunately, she had years of practice containing her rage, and she managed to keep her face calm and expressionless as he came to stand at her side.

"Your Grace," he said coolly.

Normally, the use of one's title was meant to indicate respect, but the way Anguile said it made Auriana's skin crawl. Her rage sparked, deep in her belly, but she was fiercely determined to maintain her composure. Anguile would love nothing more than to set her off, to have her _prove_ that she was not worthy of being the Queen of Stormwind, and she quite simply refused to give him the satisfaction. It was also critical that Anguile believed that they knew nothing of his financial involvement with the group of rogue warmongers, though Auriana did not feel that such a ruse necessarily required her to be especially _friendly_. Anguile had certainly not been shy about making his contempt for her known in the past, and if anything, if she were to be overly nice, it might arouse his suspicions.

"Duke Anguile," she replied evenly. "What brings you out to the Stockades? An execution is hardly a pleasant sight, I would have thought you would have remained in the Keep."

She glanced briefly in his direction, noting the slight curl of his lip, but otherwise she kept her eyes trained firmly forward. The 'Defias' prisoner had finally been brought forth from within the depths of the Stockades, ready to face the justice of the King of Stormwind's blade, though Auriana's sudden interest had less to do with the prisoner himself, and more to do with her desire to avoid having to look Anguile in the face. If she were forced to see the smug disdain in his eyes, she thought she might just explode; both the plan and consequences be damned.

"The House of Nobles was _shocked_ to hear of these unprovoked attacks by remnants of the Defias, particularly as they involved the heir to the throne," the duke said smoothly. "As one of the leading nobles in Stormwind, I took it upon myself to represent my fellows."

Out of the corner of her eye, Auriana saw him lift his chin and square his shoulders proudly, and she only narrowly resisted the urge to snort. His lies came to him with unnerving ease, so much so that even Auriana might have believed his concern to be genuine, had she not known what he really was.

"I am sure Varian is grateful for your support," she murmured, stressing her use of the King's first name ever so slightly.

Up on the platform at the centre of the atrium, a priest was now reading the 'Defias' a solemn prayer. To his credit, the assassin looked about as composed as any man could hope to be when faced with his own imminent death, though Auriana did not miss the way his eyes flicked toward Shalamayne more often than was natural.

"I confess, I am surprised that you did not want to execute this man yourself," Anguile observed, turning his head to look at her properly. "I hear he caused you a great deal of pain."

His voice was soft, sympathetic… except for the strange, almost _pleased_ emphasis he added to the word 'pain'. Auriana was an experienced enough warrior to know exactly how close she had come to death during the assassin's most recent attack, and she could almost picture the smirk of satisfaction on Anguile's face when he had heard the news of her disappearance. Of course, she could also imagine that his fury upon learning that she had been rescued would have been of a similarly impressive magnitude, and she wondered how he managed to stand beside her so calmly.

"Varian is the King. Justice is his purview, not mine," she said evenly, though she still did not deign to turn her head.

"Do you believe this is justice?" Anguile mused, gesturing to the grave scene playing out before them. "A terrible crime, to be sure, but still… a rather barbaric punishment."

The priest had finished his rites, and had moved to the side to allow two of the Stockades guards to bring the condemned assassin forward. They silently pushed him to his knees before Varian, who now stood as still and unmoving as if he had been carved from stone. His eyes were dark pools of smouldering rage, and he looked so cold and aloof that even Auriana shivered to gaze upon him.

"What punishment would you suggest, then?" she asked Anguile. "If it were up to you, how would _you_ punish a murderous traitor?"

"Fortunately, it is not up to me," the duke replied, somewhat disingenuously.

"Varian is doing what he must to protect his son and heir. Surely you would do the same to if it were your daughter?"

Auriana had not intended for her words to sound threatening, but Anguile tensed in response nonetheless. His love for his daughter appeared genuine, at least, perhaps one of the few genuine things about him, and Auriana silently filed that information away for future use.

"He is protecting you also. His future... bride," Anguile observed pointedly. "Forgive my manners, I ought to have congratulated you on your engagement. Who would have thought you would be set to become the next Queen of Stormwind? Especially after such… _platonic_ … beginnings."

Auriana had never heard the word 'platonic' sound quite so hateful, and she found herself suddenly struggling with the urge to draw on her magic. Anguile was referring to one of their earliest conversations, in which Auriana had insisted that her relationship with Varian was non-romantic. The irony being that at the time, she had not been lying, though she doubted Anguile would believe her.

In a way, however, Auriana found Anguile's thinly veiled nastiness refreshing. _He_ was certainly not going to pretend that he liked her, and in doing so freed Auriana from her own similar obligations towards courtesy. Which was why, then, she felt no particular compulsion to dignify his answer with a response, and instead kept her gaze firmly trained on the assassin.

Warden Thelwater whispered something quietly to Varian as the two guards holding the prisoner secured him to the chopping block and stepped away. Varian did not seem much interested in what the Warden had to say, however, judging from the way he shook his head and scowled. He muttered something brief in reply, and stood tall and unflinching as the Warden began his official reading of the charges levelled against the assassin.

Fortunately, the laying of charges did not take long, and the assembled crowd fell eerily silent as the Warden finished his speech and beckoned Varian forward. No one dared breathe as the King of Stormwind pulled his blade from its sheath and loomed over the assassin with an air of heavy, resigned finality. He paused only to find Auriana in the crowd, his jaw tightening determinedly as his gaze swept over her, before he lifted his mighty sword and brought it thundering down on the assassin's neck.

There was a loud, wet crunch as the assassin's head tumbled away from his body, then silence. Auriana let out the breath she didn't realise she had been holding, and she averted her eyes. Killing the man had been necessary, she didn't doubt that, but she did not relish in cold bloodshed.

"You must be relieved," Anguile observed, as the Stockades guards began to tend to the body.

"I am," Auriana said truthfully. "I only hope this is the last… unpleasantness… we must suffer before our wedding."

Anguile's cool mask slipped ever so slightly at the mention of the wedding, and he leaned in uncomfortably close.

"We all feel the same, I'm sure. Poor King Varian has suffered _so_ much when it comes to wives. We wouldn't want him to lose you, as well," he whispered, his tone far less kindly than his words would suggest. "We can only hope that fear of his reprisal will keep any other troublesome elements in line."

"And fear of mine," Auriana added softly.

"Pardon?"

She gave him a small, calm smile, and turned to look him right in the eye for the first time. If Anguile wanted to play games, then Auriana was happy to oblige him. It was blatantly clear that he disapproved of her engagement to Varian, just as much as he had disapproved of her merely dancing with the king the first night they had met. If Anguile had his way, Auriana did not doubt that she would soon meet a fate similar to that of Tiffin Wrynn. He might not have said as much in words, but the threat was as clear as if he had spelled it out for her word by word.

"Varian is a dangerous man, to be sure, and his wrath is something to fear… but trust me when I say that I am _far_ worse," she clarified sharply. "If I caught someone trying to harm Anduin again…well, just between you and me, I'm not sure I'd wait for a formal execution. I would burn them alive from the inside out. They would die screaming."

Auriana kept her tone light, almost friendly, though her eyes told a very different story. Anguile might have been older, more experienced, and nearly a foot taller, but in that moment, Auriana held all the power. He cleared his throat, fussing uncomfortably with the cuffs of his sleeves, and it was some time before he gathered himself enough to speak.

"I would caution you against overconfidence. I told you once that there are those who would do anything to keep you from the throne of Stormwind," he growled.

"Do you count yourself amongst their number, my Lord?" Auriana asked innocently. "I seem to remember that you once threatened me to stay away from Varian."

"It was a suggestion, not a threat," he snapped. "And one that you ignored, I might add."

His contempt for her was palpable; his civilised veneer of nobility slipping away as the cold, cunning manipulator that lay beneath was revealed.

"Are you still _suggesting_ the same thing?" Auriana asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Fortunately, she sounded a lot calmer than she actually felt, though her heart was beating so fast that she thought Anguile must have been able to hear.

"Let me assure you, I live only to serve the throne of Stormwind," he said coldly.

 _To_ take _the throne of Stormwind, more like it,_ Auriana corrected silently.

She shook her head and turned away, focusing her attention on the execution platform once more. The guards had begun to prepare the assassin's body for the priest, who would take him away for cremation. Varian had disappeared, along with Warden Thelwater, and as the rest of the crowd began to slowly file out of the room, Auriana suddenly felt very alone.

"I hope this is the last we will see of these _Defias_ ," Anguile murmured. "For your sake, my lady."

His snakelike voice sent shivers down Auriana's spine, and for the briefest second, she saw red. She imagined him screaming as she tore him apart with her magic, and it was only by turning her back on him completely that she managed to maintain control. She didn't bother to say goodbye, though as she made to walk away, she was struck by a sudden surge of petty inspiration.

With her back turned, Anguile could not see the glow of Auriana's eyes as she abruptly called upon her magic, and sent the tiniest burst of power flowing out towards the brazier behind her. It was a simple spell, taking no more time or energy than Auriana would have used to swat a fly, but the effects were immediate. The brazier flared briefly to life, as if someone had doused it in oil, and a shower of sparks ignited the hem of Anguile's fine mageweave coat.

"You really ought not to stand so close to those braziers, my lord," she said, glancing back over her shoulder with a cool nonchalance. "Your coat's on fire."

Anguile was in no real danger, of course - she was not _that_ reckless - but it gave Auriana no small measure of satisfaction to see the normally refined duke suddenly swearing and hopping about as he tried to beat away the flames. Anguile was instantly swarmed by guardsmen trying to assist, and she took advantage of the distraction to slip through the crowd and out onto the streets of Stormwind.

Auriana shivered, though it had more to do with her encounter with Anguile than the biting cold wind. She had reacted poorly, she knew, but she had been somewhat caught off guard by Anguile's open hostility. He had not admitted to anything - she doubted he was that stupid - but it was clear that he wanted her as far away from Varian and the throne of Stormwind as possible, and he didn't care whether she knew it. The battle lines had been drawn.

 _I will not allow that man to intimidate me,_ she told herself firmly. _I will not allow that man to_ beat _me..._

Auriana was so lost in her thoughts that she barely paid any attention to where she was going, and she probably would have walked right into the canals if not for the sudden large hand that closed over her arm and pulled her back. She gasped in surprise, her heart leaping, only to relax a moment later as she turned to see Varian staring down at her with a worried expression.

"Auriana? Where are you going?" he asked. "Where are your guards? Don't tell me you gave them the slip again…"

"I'm sorry…" she murmured. "I… ah… I got distracted…"

"By Anguile?" Varian hissed, his grip on her arm tightening painfully. "That was him talking to you, was it not?"

"Believe me, it was not _my_ choice," Auriana clarified. "He wanted to have a little chat, apparently."

"And?" Varian demanded, his voice low and urgent. "Did he say anything to upset you? Did he _hurt_ you?"

His scarred eyes swept over her anxiously, as if he truly believed Anguile might go so far as to harm her publicly. His hands slid possessively to her waist, and he loomed over her like a large, angry wolf.

"I'm perfectly fine," she assured him quickly. "You know he doesn't have the stones to harm me directly. He was… well, I'm not sure what to make of it, actually."

"We need to get you back to the Keep," Varian resolved. "You look half frozen, and I don't want you exposed out here any longer than necessary. Can you open a portal?"

"Of course," Auriana said, reaching up to grasp him firmly by the shoulder as she gathered her power.

The air hummed with electricity as the portal spell took hold, and a few seconds later, they materialised in the centre of Varian's bedchambers. It was infinitely warmer in Varian's rooms, with his hearthfire burning merrily away, and Auriana suddenly found her heavy woollen cloak uncomfortably hot. She slipped it off her shoulders, revealing her dark grey dress beneath, before divesting herself of her scarf and gloves.

For his part, Varian went to stow Shalamayne, having worn no cloak of his own. He was almost always warm, and even the chilly morning air had done very little to faze him. He did, however, remove his belt and scabbard, and he loosened the top two buttons of his coat as he came back to stand with Auriana.

"So. What happened?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest with a wary expression.

"Anguile sought me out. He wanted to… I don't know. Intimidate me, maybe," Auriana explained.

She gave Varian a brief summary of the conversation, making his heavy glower deepen with every word.

"He might be onto us, you know," she finished. "As in… he might know that _we_ know that the man you just executed was no real Defias…"

"What makes you think that?" Varian asked worriedly.

He stepped closer, and reached out to grab her gently by the waist. His fingers were warm, even through the fabric of Auriana's woollen dress, and she instinctively leaned into his touch.

"Some of the things he said were… I don't know. Unsettling. Though I might be a little paranoid," she admitted, shrugging. "It might have just been his usual meddling."

"Did he say anything that we can use?"

Varian's words were almost unintelligible over the harsh growl that rumbled through his chest, and his fingers tightened reflexively on her body.

"No. It's the usual problem - I can't prove anything. And even if someone _had_ overheard our conversation, technically he did nothing more that suggest there may be those who would disapprove of our betrothal. Which… isn't exactly an unusual sentiment, and certainly not treasonous in itself," she sighed. " _Light_ , I wanted to burn that smirk off his face..."

Varian snorted irritably, and he shook his head with a dark scowl.

"I'd like to let you, believe me," he agreed, "But you were right. If there's a chance we can get them all…"

"Then we need to take it," Auriana sighed, pressing a hand to her temples. "I know we need to be patient, but he's not going to make it easy."

She bit her lip, and suddenly found it difficult to look Varian in the eye. He reached for her cheek, concerned, but Auriana kept her eyes firmly trained on her boots.

"I may have… um... lit him on fire…" she whispered. "Just a little bit."

Varian let out a soft snort of genuine surprise, and gently tilted her chin upwards.

"Just a little bit?" he repeated. "Tell me, Auriana, how does one light someone on fire _just a little bit_?"

He cocked an eyebrow skeptically, and she blushed.

"It was only the hem of his coat..." she said, though she doubted that made it much better. "And he can't prove it was me, he was standing next to a brazier at the time..."

Varian stared down at her for a long time, when to Auriana's utter shock, he burst out laughing. The King of Stormwind very rarely laughed, but when he did, it was deep and boisterous, and in this case, it was so loud that a guard actually knocked on the door to make sure everything was well. Varian ordered him off, still chuckling, and he pressed a firm kiss to Auriana's forehead.

"I shouldn't have done it…" she mumbled, still slightly confused by his reaction.

"Probably not," Varian agreed, though he could not hide the satisfied glint in his eyes.

"I _might_ feel a bit more remorseful if you stopped smiling at me like that, you know," Auriana pointed out.

Varian's darkly handsome face grew intense and serious once more, and he suddenly pressed Auriana backwards so that she was pinned between his hips and the cool stone wall of his chambers. He leaned in conspiratorially, and brushed his lips against her ear.

"Hmph. Don't tell anyone, but I rather enjoy it when you light things on fire…" he growled huskily. "Especially when one of those 'things' is that scheming bastard…"

Auriana laughed as he kissed her, and for a few precious moments she was able to forget the world of politics and assassins as she lost herself in the passionate embrace of the man she loved.

"You're taking this surprisingly well," she observed, touching a soft hand to his chest. "I would have thought you would be more… upset."

Varian considered the question thoughtfully.

"I don't… well, you know I don't trust Anguile in the slightest, but… you're going to be my _wife_ ," he said simply. "I've wanted you for so long, it's difficult to be anything less than… happy. As… odd as that may seem, for a man like me."

It was true, she thought. On reflection, Varian had been unusually energetic and enthusiastic of late, ever since they had begun to make public their engagement. He had been briefly nervous when they had announced the news to Anduin, as had she, but the prince had responded with such overwhelming joy and excitement that their trepidation had been short lived. By his own standards, Varian had been almost _giddy_ ever since, and had certainly not been shy about showing Auriana his affection.

"And… if I allow myself to get angry, I'm going to end up tearing his head off with my bare hands," Varian added quietly, his eyes darkening. "Which we all agreed would be a very bad idea…"

For the briefest of moments, Auriana saw his muscles tensed in anticipation, but he forced himself to relax with a slight shake if of his head. He had been working hard to contain his anger, Auriana knew, and she was immensely proud of him for putting the wellbeing of his kingdom over his own desire to see Anguile dead immediately.

"Better to focus on you," he finished, slipping his enormous hand into hers. "Come. I've arranged a surprise. Something to take your mind of Anguile."

"Oh?"

Varian declined to answer, instead choosing to step away with an enigmatic quirk of his eyebrows.

"This way," he urged her, tugging gently on her hand

He made his way swiftly out into the corridor, forcing Auriana to take two steps to every one of his, before stopping abruptly outside his study. He gestured towards the heavy oak door, and stood behind her with his hands resting firmly on her shoulders.

"The surprise is… your study?" she asked, nonplussed.

"No. I have arranged an appointment with a dressmaker," he explained. " _You_ need a dress, and I know you've been putting it off."

It made sense that Varian had recruited a tailor, of course, even if Auriana were hesitant. She had to wear _something_ , after all; though a small and admittedly unreasonable part of her had hoped she might get away with wearing something of her mother's, and avoid a whole fuss. Admittedly, if it had been up to Auriana, she and Varian would have been wed in a ceremony with fewer than a dozen people in attendance, but such a simple affair would apparently never do for the High King of the Alliance. The last she had heard from Varian's chamberlain, the guest list now topped seven hundred, and it made Auriana feel queasy just to _think_ about standing up in front of so many people. Still, she understood why a royal wedding was a large, significant event, and thus far she had abstained from sharing her concerns with Varian.

"Er… a dressmaker?" Auriana repeated, trying not to let her nervousness show. "For me?"

"The royal dressmaker, in fact," Varian confirmed. "Served the Crown for twenty years, as he loves to remind everyone who will listen. He's a finicky little weasel, but he _is_ the best. I'm sure you'll have lots of fun..."

His eyes glinted wickedly as he slid a hand to the small of her back, and gently pushed her closer to the door. He looked rather pleased with himself, though whether it was because he was excited to see her dressed in her wedding finery, or because he knew how much she would detest being poked and prodded at with measuring tapes and pins, Auriana couldn't tell.

"Hmm. You don't know me at all, do you?" she huffed drily, looking up at him over her shoulder.

"I know that you will look beautiful in your wedding dress," Varian whispered, bending forwards so that his lips were pressed right up against the soft skin just behind her ear. "And if I have to suffer through him, so do you."

"Well, _that_ makes me feel all better..."

"Would you prefer that we were wed naked?" Varian asked, with mock seriousness. "I'm certainly not shy about _my_ body, but…"

"Stop it," Auriana growled, playfully stomping her heel down on his foot. "You know this isn't… my forte…"

Varian snorted in amusement, and pulled her briefly against him. He squeezed her shoulders and placed a reassuring kiss on top of her head, before he stepped away and turned to head back out into the main corridor.

"Wait - you're not going to stay?" Auriana asked, trying not to sound as uncertain as she felt.

It was one thing to accept that such a fuss over her dress was necessary, but she didn't particularly want to face a the tailor alone. She had no idea what she wanted to wear, and having Varian at her side would have done much to calm her nerves. The King, however, seemed to have other ideas.

"It's bad luck to see a bride in her dress before her wedding day, and the Light knows we need all the luck we can get," he said wryly. "Besides, I've already had my turn with him."

He pulled uncomfortably at his collar, and shook his head as if trying to forget a bad dream.

"What are _you_ wearing, then?" Auriana huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

Varian shrugged noncommittally, smirking slyly at her as he backed away.

"It's a secret," he said. "I'll come rescue you later, I promise."

"You'd better..." Auriana called after him, shaking her head as she watched him disappear.

She turned back to face the study door, and took a few deep, steadying breaths before she knocked once to announce her presence. Her unexpected conversation with Anguile had thrown her more than she cared to admit, and the added complication of having to unexpectedly meet with a tailor to design her _wedding dress_ had her thoroughly off balance.

 _It's a dress,_ she reminded herself sternly, _Not a demon._

The door swung open, and Auriana was suddenly confronted by a veritable storm of rich purple fabric. She blinked, and belatedly realised that somewhere within the swirl of cloth stood a slender, dark haired human man. He was not especially tall or strongly built, which perhaps explained why she had such difficulty spotting _him_ within the trappings of his gaudy suit, and he sported a rather impressive black moustache. In a way, he reminded Auriana a little of her grandfather, though her grandfather would never have deigned to wear something so ostentatious.

"Your Grace, I presume. It is an honour," the man said grandly, bowing before her with a tremendous flourish. "Willifred Fortescue, at your service. It is an honour to have been commissioned to design your wedding dress. The highlight of my twenty year career as Stormwind's official royal tailor, I'm sure. Now, come!"

He bustled her into the room, and Auriana let out a soft gasp of surprise. Varian's study had all but been transformed, so much so that Auriana almost didn't recognise it. A small wooden dais had been set up in front of a mirror at the centre of the room, and every inch of available surface was covered with a hundred different types of fabrics and sample dresses. The curtains had been drawn back and the fire lit, while Varian's desk had been pushed up against the back wall to make room for even more tailoring paraphernalia. Apparently, Fortescue had come prepared to dress an entire army.

A skinny young woman with mousy brown hair looked up as Auriana entered, pausing where she stood folding a set of silks. Her eyes widened, and she wobbled up and down awkwardly in what might have been an attempt at a curtsy.

"This is my apprentice, Clarette," Fortescue explained, gesturing flippantly towards the girl. "She will be helping with your measurements today. I assure you, Your Grace, she is more useful than she looks."

Auriana bit her lip, unsure how to respond to Fortescue's unexpected bluntness, and saved herself the trouble of answering by pretending to be very interested in a nearby dress sample. Clarette, however, did not seem at all bothered by her master's choice of words, and she went about her business as if he said such things all the time.

Auriana shook her head in mild bewilderment, when a small movement in the corner of her eye suddenly caught her attention, and she turned in surprise to see none other than Mia Greymane. The Queen of Gilneas had been gracefully on one of Varian's wide leather chairs in the corner of the room, though she rose to her feet as Fortescue ushered Auriana further inside.

"Q-Queen Mia..." Auriana murmured, silently cursing Varian and his surprises as she hastily swept her skirts into a low curtsy of her own. "A pleasure to see you again…"

She had met Mia once before, and while she had found the older woman to be generous and pleasant, she was not sure whether she would consider their relationship personal or friendly. Mia, however, seemed to have no such reservations, and she came over to clasp Auriana's hands with a wide smile.

"Hello, dear," she said warmly, pulling Auriana back to her feet. "No need for formalities. How _are_ you?"

"Um… fine…" Auriana said awkwardly. "I think."

She did her best to hide her surprise at Mia's unexpected presence, but the Queen of Gilneas was far too sharp to be so easily fooled.

"I take it Varian didn't tell you I was coming?" she asked shrewdly. "Tess and I arrived last night. For the wedding."

"Varian doesn't tell me a lot of things, apparently," Auriana grumbled.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Fortescue, and she scowled.

"Ah, I see," Mia said knowingly. "Well, in any case, Varian thought you might appreciate an... ally."

She, too, turned took at Fortescue, her eyes sparkling with tolerant good humour. Fortunately, the tailor seemed not to have noticed Mia's sly smirk as he fussed around in his many fabrics, muttering to himself the whole while. Eventually, however, he withdrew a small leather notebook and pen from the breast pocket of his gaudy suit, and he turned back around to give Auriana his full attention.

"Up on the dias please, Your Grace, if you would," he ordered, beckoning her forward. "Let us have a look at you."

Auriana glanced nervously up at Mia, who gave her a firm, encouraging nod. She had been fitted for dresses before, of course, but this was to be her _wedding dress,_ and she found that her knees were surprisingly shaky as she climbed the few short steps to the top of the dias and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Auriana had never been overly concerned with her appearance, though she very much wanted to look beautiful for Varian on the day. She was hardly an ogre, she knew, but nor was she a great beauty like the other ladies of the Court, with their impossibly graceful necks, flawless skin, and legs that seemed to go on forever...

Auriana was so distracted by judging her own appearance that she failed to notice the small movement on her left side, and she squeaked in surprise as Fortescue's assistant stepped forward and began to unlace her bodice.

"Hey!"

She yanked the fabric across her chest, and glared across the line of her shoulder at the bewildered apprentice.

"Please, Your Grace," Fortescue said quickly, hurrying up to stand on Auriana's other side. "It is imperative that I take measurements! We must have you out of that dress."

"You… can't work around it?" Auriana asked unhappily, not at all eager to expose her pale, battle-scarred body to a room full of strangers. "Or… I could just… give you my measurements? I do know them…"

"It is your wedding day, Your Grace. Your dress must be _yours_ , perfectly cut to every curve of your body!" Fortescue insisted, looking utterly scandalised by her reticence. "How do you expect me to make you the envy of every woman in the Alliance if you do not allow me to fit you properly?"

"I don't _want_ to be the envy of every woman in the Alliance…" Auriana grumbled under her breath, though she reluctantly allowed Clarette to strip her down to her plain undergarments.

The chill air hit her immediately, and Auriana was suddenly very glad for the fire burning at the back of the room. She was not so worried about the temperature, however, as she was about her exposed scars. She saw Clarette's eyes widen, and while the young apprentice tailor did her best to hide her reaction, it was clear that she was shocked by the visceral evidence of the punishment Auriana's body had taken over the years.

Auriana sighed, though she supposed that battle damage was a rare sight for a young tailor's apprentice like Clarette, who had likely spent her whole life safely within the walls of Stormwind. Still, her scars were bad enough that even Mia Greymane winced in sympathy, and Auriana found herself suddenly struggling to resist the urge to cover her body with her hands.

 _I'm going to kill Varian for this,_ she thought, squaring her shoulders as Fortescue opened his notebook and began to circle her with a critical eye.

He studied her with the air of a man inspecting a prized horse at auction, stroking his moustache thoughtfully as he paced. Clarette soon recovered from her shock, and she, too, stepped forward with a measuring tape and a small notebook of her own. She said not a word, but she worked quickly and efficiently to take measurements of every conceivable part of Auriana's body; everything from the circumference of her waist to the length of her fingers.

"Let us have a good look at you," the tailor mused, jotting a quick note to himself as he spoke. "No height, obviously, but good posture. Too many ladies these days _slouch_."

Apparently, he had entirely forgotten that Auriana was actually in the room, and perfectly capable of hearing every word he said. She raised an eyebrow, giving him her best affronted glare, but Fortescue paid her about as much attention as he would have a fly. He was entirely focused on his task, and continued to address Auriana as if she were a mannequin, instead of an actual living, breathing woman.

"Nothing to write home about in the rear department," he added, sounding rather disappointed that Auriana had not had the common _decency_ to be born with a sufficiently shapely bottom, "But a beautiful little waist; _that_ I can work with."

Auriana coughed down a sarcastic retort as she glanced at Mia over her shoulder, and was somewhat surprised to see the normally composed Queen of Gilneas trying and largely failing to contain an amused smile.

 _Nothing to write home about_? she mouthed incredulously, forcing Mia to turn away and cover her mouth with a delicate hand.

"Eyes forward, Your Grace!" Fortescue tutted. "Chest is ample, though at the very least proportional, and set beneath delicate shoulders. Lovely pale skin, a pity about those scars, but I suppose that can't be helped."

He abruptly reached for Auriana's chin, and turned her face from side to side before she could object.

"A short neck, but nice high cheekbones, and truly remarkable eyes," he concluded. "Yes. You will do. I can make you beautiful."

"Oh, thank the Light," Auriana muttered sarcastically. "I was worried."

Mia actually snorted at that, and was forced to cover the sound behind a rather unladylike cough. Fortescue, however, seemed not to have heard, and continued to study Auriana as calmly as if he had not just spent the last few minutes scrutinising her every flaw. He was a curious mix of sharply observant and blithely unaware, and the entire situation was so bizarre that Auriana found herself biting back a sudden mad urge to laugh.

"Tell me, Your Grace, what kind of neckline do you favour for formal events?" Fortescue asked. "A bateau, perhaps, or a portrait? Sweetheart? Jewel? Not a square, I think, you don't have the shoulders for it - but maybe a scoop?"

"Ah… I can't say I've ever put that much thought into it," Auriana said uncertainly. "One that fits?"

She had always thought she had dressed well when the situation demanded, or at the very least she had dressed _appropriately_ , but by Fortescue's standards, she was clearly lacking. She'd certainly never paid all that much attention to the names of things, nor whether this or that neckline was most flattering for her build.

"You've not put much thought into it?" Fortescue exclaimed theatrically. "But… but you are a _duchess_! What have you been doing all your life?"

"Um… well... saving Azeroth..." Auriana said candidly, unable to resist.

Unfortunately, Fortescue did not seem to appreciate her fine wit as much as Mia. He cut her off with a wave of his hand, and frowned down at her like she was a particularly vexatious puzzle.

"Perhaps we ought to start elsewhere, then," he suggested, snapping his fingers at Clarette and pointing to one of the many sample dresses he had brought with him. "Try this one, please. Classic cut, long sleeve, bateau neck. Any dress I make will be tailored to you, of course, but let us get an idea about what silhouettes might suit you best."

Clarette complied instantly, and in no time at all she had Auriana laced into an elegant gown made of heavy white silk. Unsurprisingly, it was a bit too big, and while beautifully made, it had the unfortunate effect of making Auriana look boxy, and somehow even shorter. Fortunately, Fortescue swiftly came to the same conclusion, and he immediately ordered Auriana to try a different dress.

What followed next was a seemingly endless parade of fabric, pearls, and lace, as Auriana was tasked with trying on nearly every sample Fortescue had brought. Most were overlarge, but more troublingly, none seemed to sit at all right on Auriana's slender frame. No matter how much the tailor extolled the virtue of this line or that waist or that neckline, not a single one made her feel comfortable, much less beautiful, and Auriana began to despair of ever finding _anything_ to wear. Worse, Fortescue kept asking her for detailed opinions, and she was unable to articulate her real feelings beyond a few quiet, polite refusals.

The final straw came in the form a particularly generous ballgown, with generous puffed sleeves that were apparently very popular in certain circles, and a hooped skirt that was at least as wide as Auriana was tall. As with all the other dresses, it was exquisitely made, but it looked so utterly ridiculous on Auriana's small frame that she almost burst out laughing at her own reflection in the mirror.

"Um. It's… really… really..." she stammered, unable to think of quite the right words. "Er…"

It might have been flattering on a taller woman, perhaps, but on Auriana it simply looked as if she were cocooned in a giant ball of fabric.

"May I?" Mia asked suddenly.

The Queen of Gilneas had remained silent during the impromptu fashion show, though she now rose gracefully and swept across the room to stand at Auriana's side. Fortescue leaned forward as if to stop her, but she quelled his objection with a twitch of a single regal eyebrow. She looked every inch the commanding queen as she stepped up onto the dais at Auriana's side, and she placed a motherly hand on Auriana's shoulder as they both stared at one another in the mirror.

"Be honest," Mia said quietly, so that only Auriana could hear. "I know you've been trying to be polite, but what do you really think?"

"I look like a marshmallow," Auriana whispered. "An enormous, fluffy marshmallow. I feel like I'm drowning in fabric. Help me?"

Mia chuckled softly, and gave Auriana a short, reassuring pat on the arm as she turned back around to address the tailor.

"Mister Fortescue. I think we can agree that this very… ah… _fashionable_ silhouette is, while beautiful, simply too grand for Her Grace's frame," she said diplomatically.

Fortescue nodded in agreement, thought it was clear from his pursed lips that he was thoroughly insulted to have yet another one of his sartorial masterpieces dismissed.

"Perhaps there is another way to go about this," Mia continued smoothly, offering Auriana a kind smile. "Let's start small. No need to make a hundred different decisions all at once. Mister Fortescue, you can take notes. Hair up or down?"

"Ah, down, I suppose," Auriana replied. "Varian likes it down."

"I bet he does. Wolves are all the same," Mia smirked, with a conspiratorial grin. "What if we were to pull the front off your face, like this, and left the back long. With a slight curl? Still formal, but not quite so severe."

She gathered a handful of Auriana's hair in a rough demonstration as she spoke, carefully pulling back some of the loose tendrils that framed Auriana's face and leaving the ends long.

"Yes, I like that," Auriana agreed readily, much preferring Mia's simple approach to the problem than Fortescue's fussing.

"Good. That means we could perhaps look into a v-neck, something to show off your decolletage," Mia said thoughtfully.

She was now studying Auriana as closely as Fortescue had earlier, though her gaze was not nearly quite so uncomfortable.

"Could we do something off the shoulder?" Auriana suggested tentatively. "My mother's wedding dress was like that."

"I think that can be arranged," Mia agreed, giving Fortescue a pointed look. "Though a softer fabric, I think. Mooncloth or spellweave, instead of heavy silk. Celestial cloth, even."

"I can procure any cloth you like," Fortescue interjected proudly, "But she will still need a full skirt. And a train! It is a royal wedding, after all."

"Yes, Mister Fortescue," Mia said patiently, "Though I'm sure a man of your talents can manage a floaty train, rather than a stiff one?"

Fortescue spluttered something incomprehensible at the implication and immediately made a note, though he kept otherwise silent as Mia turned back to Auriana.

"Colour?"

"Um… ivory, maybe, instead of true white. White makes me look a little… ghostly," Auriana admitted. "We don't want people to think Varian is marrying one of the Forsaken."

"Very true," Mia smiled. "Something like this?"

She beckoned to Clarette, who immediately hurried forward with a selection of swatches. Mia carefully selected a rich, dark ivory from the array of fabric before her, and held it up against Auriana's cheek. It suited her skin tone far better than any of the other colours she had tried on that day, and Auriana found herself smiling for the first time since she had entered the room.

"Yes, that's much better," she said gratefully.

Mia held the approved swatch out to Fortescue with a firm stare, and glanced briefly at the clock on Varian's desk.

"Perhaps we should stop for the day. We've been at this for hours," she told him. "You have Auriana's measurements, now, and her colours, and plenty of notes. Enough to be getting on with, I should think?"

Mia phrased it as a question, but it was clear she would accept no argument. She was a woman used to being obeyed, and even the blunt and determined Fortescue was smart enough to know that he would make little headway against her.

"Yes, yes. Of course," he said, bowing slightly. "I shall make some preliminary sketches, and return them to you tomorrow, Your Grace. Clarette - take that swatch, and the cream princess line there. The maids will return the rest to the studio for us. Tonight, we have work to do!"

The mousy apprentice silently set about divesting Auriana from the last of the sample dresses, her slender fingers quickly working the pearl buttons free. In the meantime, Fortescue tidied his notes and gathered a number of other fabric samples, talking to himself under his breath the whole while. Fortunately, neither he or Clarette took overly long, and soon Auriana and Mia were left alone in front of the mirror, Auriana once again warm and comfortable in her own fitted grey dress.

"He's right about your waist, you know," Mia mused, tilting her head to one side. "Most of the women in Court would kill to have measurements like that."

"No arse, though, apparently," Auriana countered.

"Well, I'm sure Varian likes your rear just as it is," Mia assured her, with a small, sly wink. "He seems the red-blooded sort."

Auriana blushed at Mia's forwardness, though she found that talking to the older queen was much easier than she might have anticipated. Mia had a warm, motherly air about her, and a the kind of quick and clever wit that Auriana greatly appreciated.

"Thank you for this," she said quietly, gesturing to the mirror.

"You are quite welcome," Mia smiled, "Though I cannot help but to notice that you seem rather overwhelmed? Your royal tailor is not an easy man, by any means, but it seems to me as if there is more going on here than a finicky dressmaker."

Auriana regarded Mia carefully, uncertain of what to say. Genn Greymane was one of the few people who knew the truth about Anguile and the assassins, though Auriana wasn't sure whether he had told his wife. It didn't help that she had only met Mia once before, and while the Queen of Gilneas certainly seemed kind and trustworthy, Auriana found herself struggling to overcome her own natural guardedness.

"I… it's been a bit of a stressful day. At the end of a stressful year," she confessed finally. "And this whole… _thing_... isn't exactly comfortable… for me."

"You've never been fitted for a dress?" Mia asked, arching her eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, yes, but not like... this," Auriana, struggling to articulate the difference. "I've certainly never been fitted for a dress that was intended to be seen and commented upon by thousands people."

She pictured herself standing on the steps of Stormwind Cathedral in front of a vast crowd, and she felt suddenly queasy.

"Why does it bother you so much?" Mia prodded.

"You heard Fortescue; you saw the way he looked at my scars. He thinks I'm unfit to be a queen," she sighed. "And he's hardly the only one."

Auriana ducked her head, hoping Mia would not judge her too harshly for her weakness. She did not regret her decision to accept Varian's proposal, far from it, but as the day of wedding grew closer, the more nervous she grew. She had been so focused on the execution, and Anguile, and unravelling the mystery of the assassins that she had managed to put it largely out of her mind, but standing here with Fortescue fussing over her had only served to emphasise just how imminent the event truly was.

 _Five weeks_ , she realised suddenly, her stomach roiling. _In five weeks I'm going to be the Queen of Stormwind..._

"Auriana?" Mia asked. "You're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine," she managed, though she sounded rather less than convincing.

Mia frowned.

"There are a lot of people who will try to make you feel small in the coming months. Do not let them," she advised.

"I _am_ small," Auriana snorted wryly.

" _You_ are the future Queen of Stormwind, and future wife of the High King of the Alliance. You cannot allow yourself to be intimidated," Mia insisted. "Genn has told me much about your exploits, and rumour has it you are one of the strongest mages alive. Are you really going to tell me that you're no match for a fussy old dressmaker? He is hardly comparable to _Archimonde_."

"Well, to be fair, I was allowed to pyroblast Archimonde…"

Mia chuckled, though her amusement did not quite reach her eyes. Her expression was at once both serious and compassionate, and she reached out to take Auriana's small hand in her own.

"No one is born to be a king or queen, Auriana, no matter what some people would have you believe," she added softly. "And I say that as someone who has been a queen for a very long time. The greatest rulers are forged in fire - and as I understand it, you have been tempered more than most. Don't forget that."

Mia's quiet sincerity was compelling, and Auriana felt some of the churning tension in her stomach lessen slightly. Before she could reply, however, there came a sudden loud knock at the door.

"Oh... what now?" Auriana sighed. "Come!"

She half expected Fortescue to reappear, gushing about box pleats and handkerchief hems, but instead she was surprised to see none other than Jaina Proudmoore, Archmage of the Kirin Tor. Jaina was immaculately dressed in her official robes of office, her breast and shoulderplates shining, though her expression was considerably more friendly and personable than her formal appearance would suggest.

"Jaina!" Auriana exclaimed. "Ah… come in. What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," Jaina explained, as she stepped across the threshold into Varian's study, "Though I was not expecting to find the Queen of Gilneas, as well..."

She smiled warmly at Mia, who acknowledged the greeting with a polite nod.

"A pleasure to see you, Lady Jaina," she said. "How can we be of assistance?"

"I need your help in Dalaran, Auriana," Jaina said significantly, "It's a rather important matter, but if you're busy…"

She glanced sidelong at Mia, who was now watching the two younger women with great interest.

"Ah, no… I think we were just about finished," Auriana said, trying not sound too keen.

She was keen to get out of Stormwind for a while, not least because Dalaran was a place where she felt she could actually be _useful_. Of course, she did not wish to cause offense to Mia by hurrying off, especially after the Queen had been so kind, and she turned to the older woman for approval.

"Er… Mia? If that's alright with you?"

"Perfectly fine, my dear. I would not dare interfere in the affairs of Kirin Tor," she reassured Auriana good-naturedly. "Though I think you and I should continue our discussion later, don't you?"

It was not an order, merely a suggestion, but it was clear Mia had much more to say on the subject of being a queen. Somewhat surprisingly, however, Auriana found the idea of talking to Mia further quite comforting, even despite her own shyness, and she quickly nodded her assent.

"I'd like that," she admitted quietly.

"It's settled, then," Jaina said brightly, though it was clear she was in a hurry to return to Dalaran. "Shall we get going?"

Auriana squared her shoulders, and she felt a sudden surge of invigorating energy as Jaina easily opened a portal back to the great floating city.

"Right behind you," she said eagerly. "Just let me grab my boots."


	2. Chapter Two

**Jaina**

As soon as Auriana was properly dressed, Jaina called a portal to Dalaran and stepped through, trusting that Auriana would follow. For almost a month, she had been investigating the theft of the magebane that had been used to poison Auriana, and leave her vulnerable to attempted assassination. After helping Varian to locate Auriana in the forests of Stranglethorn and return her safely to Stormwind, Jaina had hastened immediately back to Dalaran. At the time, she had not known the true extent of the conspiracy that had nearly claimed both Anduin and Auriana's lives, though once Varian was satisfied that no further attacks were imminent, he had filled her in on the rest.

Unfortunately, answers had been hard to come by. Jaina could not abide a mystery, though it seemed even her considerable scholarly skills were not enough in this case. It was admittedly difficult to conduct an investigation in which she could not tell anyone the real truth of what she was doing, though Varian had insisted that his circle of trust remain as closed as possible. He had been doing his best to remain calm and composed, Jaina knew, but she was not blind to the wary wolf that lurked only inches below the surface.

In the last week, however, her hours of careful, painstaking inquiry had at last borne fruit. It was a small lead, perhaps, but it was certainly better than nothing. Jaina was now keen to get Auriana's thoughts on the matter, which was why she had sought out the younger Archmage and brought her back to Dalaran.

"So - not that I'm complaining about the rescue - but why am I here?" Auriana asked, pulling her collar back into place as she and Jaina walked down the steps from Krasus' Landing and out into the street.

She looked vaguely irritated - upset, even - though Jaina wasn't sure whether it was due to having been interrupted in Stormwind, or because she was nervous about spending time with Jaina one on one. While they had worked together more frequently since Auriana's elevation to the rank of Archmage, and had socialised together at Varian's behest, Jaina had always felt as if Auriana were not entirely comfortable in her presence. Of course, she wasn't sure if Auriana were entirely comfortable in anyone's presence, save for Varian's, and she had never taken Auriana's shyness personally.

"Rescue? I thought I had walked in on some kind of fitting?" Jaina asked.

"For my wedding dress," Auriana confirmed, though her voice was oddly flat.

She was in many ways an atypical bride, but Jaina had expected her to sound a bit more enthusiastic about her impending nuptials.

"That must have been exciting," she prompted.

"Not the word I would use," Auriana muttered, her nose crinkling in mild irritation.

Jaina was concerned by Auriana's response, but she chose not to press the issue further. From her brief conversations with Varian after he had formally announced the engagement, Jaina knew that Auriana had decidedly mixed feelings about becoming Stormwind's next queen, and she did not want to cause the younger woman any further stress. She understood the pressures of a royal relationship better than most, though she of course hoped that Varian and Auriana's engagement would ultimately prove more successful than her own ill-fated romance with Arthas.

"I called you here because we have a lead on the theft of the magebane," she explained, smoothly changing the topic as she and Auriana turned and made their way towards the Eventide.

"Oh?"

"As you know, we occasionally use magebane in the arrest of magical criminals, when it's too dangerous to apprehend them by other means," Jaina said.

"And you're certain you have the only supply?" Auriana wondered.

"As certain as I can be. The poison is fiendishly difficult to make. It requires the skills of a senior Archmage, as well as a Grand Master alchemist," Jaina confirmed. "As far as I was aware, all the magebane on Azeroth was stored in the Violet Hold."

She doubted that there were any assassins following them here, in the safety of her wonderous floating city, though she found herself speaking quietly nonetheless.

"Which seems sensible, given what it's used for," Auriana agreed, "Though I'm sensing a 'but'."

"But… as it turns out, about six months ago, Lieutenant Sinclari approached Archmage Modera with some concerns regarding use of the magebane," Jaina continued. "She reported that the poison often wore off far more quickly that intended, and that it was unreliable when used against larger, non-human targets."

Lieutenant Sinclari was the Guardian responsible for the operation of the Violet Hold, and she took her job very seriously. She had been aghast to learn of the missing magebane, and while Jaina had not told her the full story, she had been more than willing to cooperate with the investigation.

"As the Council member ultimately responsible for overseeing Violet Hold operations, Modera approved a reassessment of the magebane formula. Six vials were given to one of our most trusted alchemists, under the oversight of Lieutenant Sinclari."

Auriana's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she glanced briefly in the direction of the Magus Commerce Exchange.

"You think this alchemist sold them off for profit?" she asked.

"No," Jaina said firmly. "He used four of the six vials in his experiments. He managed to improve and refine the formula, and a new batch was shipped off to the Violet Hold. The remaining stock of the old formula was destroyed. It took some time, but I confirmed accuracy of the Hold's inventory myself."

"And the two vials that were unaccounted for? Where did they end up?" Auriana wondered.

"That's what I want to show you," Jaina finished.

Auriana raised an eyebrow curiously, though she did not immediately demand further explanation.

"So far, you make it sound like… a bureaucratic oversight, rather than deliberate malfeasance," she said slowly, scowling in consternation.

"Perhaps," Jaina said vaguely, though she was not willing to draw any conclusions at this stage of the investigation. "Please. This way."

She and Auriana walked in swift lockstep through the Eventide, and off along the grand promenade that lead towards the mighty Violet Citadel. There was no particular need to hurry, though Jaina found it difficult to control the urgency in her feet. She hated the fact that her city may once again have been used to perpetrate a crime, and she wanted answers sooner rather than later. With her investigation thus far proving largely slow and unsatisfactory, she had hoped that Auriana's fresh eyes would see something that she herself had not.

As they walked towards the Silver Enclave, they came across a small group of apprentices training outdoors on one of Dalaran's many open green lawns. The apprentices were perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, and appeared to be having one of their first lessons in the creation of portals, under the tutelage of Archmage Celindra. There was a lot of unsuccessful but enthusiastic casting going on beneath Celindra's watchful eye, though the apprentices all stopped and turned as one as Jaina and Auriana strode into view.

Although they still were a good hundred yards away, a number of apprentices immediately began to giggle and talk in hushed whispers, and a few actually pointed in Auriana's direction. Celindra did her best to calm them down and refocus their attention on the class at hand, but she appeared to be having very little effect on her excitable charges.

"Ah… Jaina… why are they all staring at me like that?" Auriana said quietly, the tip of her nose reddening at the sudden attention.

"You don't know?" Jaina asked, though she wasn't especially surprised by Auriana's lack of awareness. "You're rather popular amongst some of the younger apprentices, particularly the girls."

"What? Why?"

Auriana looked completely bewildered by the attention, as if she couldn't possibly fathom why a group of young mages might consider her interesting, and despite the seriousness of their current circumstances, Jaina found herself struggling to hide a smile.

"Think about it, Auri," she said patiently. "It's well known that you are one of the most powerful mages in the Kirin Tor. You can do the kind of magic most of these students can only dream of."

"So can you," Auriana pointed out.

"True, though they see me around Dalaran quite regularly. I am a known quantity. _You_ are a great deal more mysterious," Jaina countered, smirking. "You fought in the Nexus War, only to leave the Kirin Tor to fight for the glory of the Alliance. You wounded by Deathwing, suffered through the loss of Theramore, and then triumphed over Garrosh Hellscream, both at Orgrimmar, and again at Grommashar. You then orchestrated the defeat of Archimonde, all the while having a secret affair with the King of Stormwind, to whom you are now engaged."

"You left out the part where I'm a raging berserker who has hurt or nearly killed people she loves on more that one occasion," Auriana muttered, staring down at her boots with great interest.

"Trust me, that only makes you more interesting in their eyes," Jaina assured her. "To them, you're practically a storybook hero."

"Oh, come on, Jaina, it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that…"

Auriana had subconsciously began to walk faster, and was scowling so heavily that she could have put Varian himself to shame. She sped past the apprentices with barely a glance, and Jaina saw several young faces fall in dismay.

"Auri… slow down. They're apprentices, not a horde of demons," she said gently, placing a steadying hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "Is it really so bad that they admire you? That they want to be strong and brave, and have wild adventures and grand romance, just like you?"

Auriana stopped so abruptly that Jaina nearly ran into her, and she looked up with a worried frown.

"Well… no, I suppose," she conceded, shaking her head, "But… what do I do?"

She bit her lip nervously, though her dark blue eyes shone with a sort of agitated earnestness. It was clear that she desperately wanted to do the right thing, even though she was not at comfortable finding herself the centre of such avid attention and speculation.

"You could stop glowering at them, for a start," Jaina suggested.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Auriana's pale features relaxed ever so slightly, though her jaw still remained firmly clenched.

"You commanded thousands of troops on Draenor. You could talk to them," Jaina murmured. "Are a handful of idealistic apprentices really so different?"

"Yes," Auriana said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?" Jaina asked, genuinely curious.

"Ordering soldiers around is a part of war. I'm good at war. I'm not so good at… people more generally," Auriana muttered.

"Well, for what it's worth, I have confidence in you," Jaina said, giving Auriana's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "And I'm fairly sure they're more scared of you than you are of them…"

Auriana's nose twitched in unease, though she nevertheless took a very deep breath, and turned back to face the apprentices. She gave them a very small, shy smile, and her simple attention was enough to send the group of young mages into fits of delighted giggles. Celindra had clearly given up trying to keep their focus on the lesson at hand, and she instead returned Auriana's greeting with a bright, cheery smile of her own. Encouraged, Auriana even went so far as to wave, and she looked rather pleased with herself as she and Jaina at last turned and made their way up the steps into the Violet Citadel.

The Violet Citadel was the centre of all magical learning in Dalaran, as well as the headquarters for the Kirin Tor's ruling Council. The lower floors were open to all visitors to Dalaran, both mages and non-mages alike, though the highest floors were reserved for the exclusive use and residence of the Council of Six, and other senior archmages. At the very top of the tower was the entrance to the Chamber of Air, and just below it, the Kirin Tor's infamous Arcane Vault. The middle floors also contained a number of smaller residences, as well as classrooms, libraries, and administrative suites.

Today, Jaina lead Auriana to one of the upper-middle floors of the Citadel's main tower. The most powerful arcane artifacts in Dalaran were stored in the Arcane Vault, though more commonly used reagents and spell paraphernalia were kept in a series of small storage rooms on the western side of the tower. The safest and most basic reagents were kept in a room open to all those who had been initiated into the Kirin Tor, even those as young as eleven or twelve years old. As young mages progressed through the ranks of the Kirin Tor, from initiates, to apprentices, to adepts and beyond, they were given access to increasingly more dangerous materials. Each storage room was secured with a powerful magical lock, and the codes for the higher level rooms were given to mages only once they had demonstrated the required proficiency.

"Hold on - the missing vials ended up in… reagent storage?" Auriana asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Modera took the two unused vials of the original formula and stored them in here, in the Council's personal storage vault," Jaina confirmed, nodding. "She thought it prudent, in the event that the new formula proved unstable, and we had to start again from scratch."

"Let me guess… those vials are no longer here," Auriana surmised.

Her face twisted into a grim scowl as she ran a hand along the door hinges, looking for any sign of tampering or forced entry.

"Correct. Though Modera is certain that she stored the vials safely, and I consider her above suspicion," Jaina said quickly. "She has served the Kirin Tor for longer than either of us have been alive."

When Varian had first tasked Jaina with solving the mystery of the missing magebane, she had despaired at the thought of more traitors using her city for their own ends. Sadly, it would not be the first time she had been betrayed by a close friend, but Modera had been one of Jaina's strongest allies in her time as leader of the Kirin Tor, and she quite simply refused to believe that the older Archmage was involved. Still, Jaina considered both Varian and Anduin her family, and she was determined not to let them down - no matter where her investigation might lead.

She waved her hand over the lock and uttered a complex incantation, causing the magic to fade away and the door to open. Inside, the room was dark, lit only by a couple of torches along the right hand wall, and a single square window at the back of the room. It was full to the brim with hundreds of different reagents and magical devices; everything from powerful runestones and ley crystals, to shimmering foci and dimensional anchors. Jaina had tried to encourage an organisational system of sorts, but it seemed that each Council member had a very different idea of what 'organised' actually meant. The contents of the room were at the very least recorded in a small, leather-bound ledger, however, the withdrawals and deposits of each Archmage identified by a unique runic signature.

Jaina flicked through the the ledger to a date about six months earlier, and held the open book out for Auriana's inspection.

"You can see where Modera made the deposit… but there is no record of a withdrawal," she said grimly.

Auriana bit her lip idly as she read, her slender white fingers running across the scrawled rune that stood in place of Modera's name.

"My next action was therefore to take inventory of the room, and compare it to the ledger," Jaina added. "It's mostly correct, though a number of other reagents were missing. Nothing quite as dangerous as the magebane, thankfully, but there are at least a dozen other items we cannot account for."

"It seems you have a thief," Auriana said slowly.

"And therein lies the problem," Jaina sighed. "Only the Council of Six have access to this room. I consider all of them trustworthy."

"Could someone have broken the lock?" Auriana asked, snapping the ledger shut and placing it back on the nearest shelf.

"See for yourself."

Jaina gently ushered Auriana from the room, and re-locked the door with a wave of her hand. While Auriana was an Archmage, she was not a member of the Council, and as such, did not know the spell necessary to open the door. In theory, the lock could be broken by a brute force magical attack, though to do so would have attracted considerable attention. No such disturbance had been reported in the six months since the magebane had been placed in storage, and Jaina was quite frankly stumped.

It didn't help that there were precious few people that she could talk to about the problem, given the sensitive nature of the issue, and the fact that they had no idea how far the conspiracy had spread. Varian had given her permission to keep Kalec fully informed, at least, but he had been as puzzled as she. One of the reasons she had invited Auriana to Dalaran was to get a third opinion, and she watched on curiously as the younger mage crouched down and inspected the lock.

"Hmm… it's Kalec's work, I assume, he does favour his split seventh level bindings," Auriana murmured, her fingers glowing bright white as she cast a careful magical probe. "It's more efficient, in the end, though it requires more power in the initial casting. Which, if you're the former Aspect of Magic, I suppose is something of a moot point..."

It was a unusually sophisticated analysis, and Jaina couldn't help but to arch a pale eyebrow in surprise. Auriana had left the Kirin Tor relatively early in her education, and had missed out on learning much advanced magical theory as a result. It didn't help that she was not a natural scholar like Jaina or Kalec, and she generally lacked the refinement in her spellcasting that one might normally expect of a mage of her experience and calibre.

Jaina did not say a word, despite her bafflement, though it seemed that Auriana sensed her confusion all the same. She shifted her weight to her back foot, and glanced back over her shoulder at Jaina with a wry grin.

"What?" she said, shrugging. "I read."

"No, you don't," Jaina snorted playfully, speaking before she realised that Auriana might find her words somewhat offensive.

Much to her relief, however, Auriana barked out a short, sharp laugh, and have gave her head a rueful shake.

"You know me, I usually get by on intuition, and raw strength - and a whole lot of dumb luck," she admitted, "But ever since you made me an Archmage, I realised that I ought to make up for my theoretical shortcomings."

"You've been studying?" Jaina asked, impressed by Auriana's initiative.

They had worked together off and on over the last two years, in an endeavour to help Auriana control her berserker tendencies, but Jaina had rather been under the impression that Auriana had found such sessions tedious. She was more than happy to be wrong, however, and she was pleased to learn that some of her own studiousness had apparently rubbed off.

"Whenever I can find the time," Auriana confirmed. "I may not find the minutiae of magic as interesting as fighting in a battle… but it has its uses."

She grinned slyly, and Jaina felt her arms prickle as the younger mage drew deeply on her magic. It was strange, she thought, how each caster's use of magic felt so different, almost as different as a personality. Kalec's magic, for example, had always reminded Jaina of the ocean - deep, powerful, and enduring. On the other hand, Auriana felt like a mana bomb; an enormous amount of seething magical energy straining to be released from the tiny space into which it had been compressed.

Auriana did not explode, thankfully, instead channelling her considerable power into a complex fire construct. Jaina recognised the working as one she had tasked Auriana with months and months ago, as a means of teaching her control. At the time, she had struggled mightily with the spell, and had never quite managed to cast it to Jaina's satisfaction.

This casting, however, was both effortless and flawless, as good as Khadgar or Jaina herself could have done, and she could not help but to smile.

"Point taken," she said, acknowledging the effort with a wry nod of her head.

Auriana smirked triumphantly, and allowed the construct to dissipate. It was clear that she was pleased by her success, but even more so by the fact that Jaina had underestimated her - a mistake Jaina would not be making again.

"And... back to the lock…" Auriana said quickly, her brief amusement fading as she turned her attention back to the problem door. "I could break it, I think, but I'd have to use an awful lot of magic. I would guess that there are only a handful of mages in the entire city who would have the power and the skill necessary to do so."

"I came to the same conclusion," Jaina agreed. "No one could have broken that lock without my knowledge."

"So… either someone on the Council is trying to kill me… or there's something else going on here."

Auriana stood up, her nose wrinkling thoughtfully as she stared at the door, when her dark blue eyes lit up in sudden inspiration.

"Something else…" she repeated softly.

"Auriana…?"

"Wait for me here," she instructed.

Auriana hurried off down the corridor to Jaina's right, disappearing around the corner in a flash of dark grey skirts. Jaina briefly heard the echoing clack of boots on the stone, then nothing. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she trusted Auriana's judgement, and she was curious to see if Auriana had seen or thought of something that she had not.

After five minutes of silence, however, she began to fidget, and after ten, she began to really worry. After fifteen minutes, she had most certainly had enough of waiting, when the locked door in front of her suddenly opened to reveal Auriana standing on the threshold with her arms folded across her chest.

"Hello."

Jaina's jaw dropped.

"How did you do that?" she gasped incredulously.

"The door isn't locked from the inside," Auriana said simply, reaching out to wiggle the inner doorknob for effect.

"Not the door - how did you get into the room?" Jaina demanded. "You couldn't have teleported inside, it's warded…"

She pushed past Auriana and stepped inside, reaching out with her powers to inspect the wards. Mysteriously, they felt as strong as ever, and she could not detect any evidence of tampering. So either Auriana had developed her skills to the point where she was the fastest and most delicate spellcaster in Kirin Tor history, able to break and reassemble anti-teleportation wards from a distance, without leaving any evidence of her presence - or she had never had to remove the wards in the first place.

"How?" she repeated.

"I went through the basic reagents supply room a few doors a down, and climbed across," Auriana explained, gesturing briefly to the now-open window. "Broke the wards on the window, and climbed in."

"You _what_? Are you insane? We're at least a hundred feet in the air!"

Jaina frowned, and stuck her head out the window to take the measure of Auriana's feat for herself. The curve of the tower was sharp here, but the next window sill was only a few feet along, and she supposed someone with enough determination - or insanity - could have made the jump.

"Do you _want_ Varian to kill me?" Jaina huffed, shooting a disapproving look back over her shoulder

"What is he, my mother? I was perfectly safe!" Auriana insisted.

Jaina raised an eyebrow.

"Alright… mostly safe," Auriana conceded, with a sheepish shrug. "The point is, I got into the room without breaking the lock."

"The windows are warded…."

"Yes, but only with a few basic protection spells. Most of the protection is on that door," Auriana argued.

Jaina swore.

"I can't say it ever occured to me that someone would attempt to break through a window this high up," she confessed. "I don't even think they lock…"

"The height alone would be enough to deter most would-be thieves - and I would like to believe that most of the students and mages in Dalaran are trustworthy," Auriana agreed. "But it's certainly a hell of a lot easier to break the ward on that window than it would be to break Kalec's lock. The climb is not without peril, but it isn't overly difficult, either. Between the magic and the acrobatics... I would guess that any fit and determined fifth year apprentice could manage it. Maybe even an especially talented fourth year."

"Once someone climbed in through the window, they could just recast the wards, and walk out with the magebane," Jaina added slowly, carrying the idea through to its logical conclusion. "And the guards would hardly question a senior apprentice come to retrieve some reagents, it isn't as if access to this floor is restricted. Quite a clever plan, really."

She sighed.

"I can hardly believe that someone would go to so much trouble…"

"I doubt I would have thought of it, either, if I hadn't spent so much time with SI:7 lately. I'm starting to think like a damn spy."

Auriana winced slightly, and shook her head in irritation. It was clear that she found this sort of intrigue both trying and tiresome, though Jaina knew her well enough to know that she would never admit just how much stress it truly caused her. Varian wouldn't, either, but Jaina had seen the strain on his face when he had explained to her the full truth of the assassin's plot. She had also seen the depths of his heartbreak when he had thought Auriana had been lost to him, and it pained her that she could not offer either of them the answers they so desperately needed.

"Do you think someone might have used a mount? Flown up here?" Jaina mused idly, leaning out the window once more.

A cool, gentle breeze fluttered her hair, but it did little to soothe her frustration.

"As I understand it, Dalaran's airspace is strictly controlled, right?" Auriana asked. "An unauthorised flight would have been noticed."

"Very true," Jaina frowned. "So someone must have climbed."

"There's a tricky little jump between the second and third window sills, but otherwise it's fairly straightforward," Auriana said, spreading her hands wide. "If I can do it, it would certainly be easier for someone taller, with greater reach."

"Which leaves us with hundreds of suspects throughout the city," Jaina sighed.

She slammed the window shut, and quickly reactivated the magic wards. In addition to the standard basic protections, however, she also added a complex and discreet magical alarm, which would alert half the Violet Citadel if triggered. If a thief had successfully broken in once, it stood to reason that they might try again, and this time, Jaina was determined to be prepared.

"Good idea," Auriana said, nodding as she noted Jaina's spellwork. "Perhaps if you could also narrow down when the magebane was taken? We know Modera placed the vials here six months ago. Are there records of any patrols or security on this floor?"

"Possibly," Jaina said shortly, her voice clipped.

She did not mean to take her frustrations out on Auriana, but it was hard to deny her growing frustration - or her anger. Once again, it seemed, someone was determined to use her city for their own nefarious ends. Jaina may not have been willing to re-admit the Horde to Dalaran, but nor did she want to see Azeroth consumed by yet another war - especially if it came about by the deaths of two people that she cared for.

"It's a start, at least," Auriana murmured.

"I wish I could offer you more," Jaina said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt. "We might know the how, but nothing about the who, or _why_ …"

"It's still more than we knew this morning. Thank you," Auriana said sincerely.

"I suppose," Jaina conceded. "Although I _am_ glad nothing more dangerous was taken. I don't mean to belittle the trauma of your experience in the Duskwood, but…"

"Two vials of magebane is a damned sight better than a stolen Focusing Iris," Auriana agreed, her eyes darkening with worry.

Jaina stiffened at the mention of the Focusing Iris, and she quickly clasped her hands together before Auriana could see them tremble.

"Which reminds me… I should also see to the security around the Arcane Vault," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

It was extremely unlikely that any thief could breach the myriad protections on the Kirin Tor's mighty vault, at least not without attracting considerable attention, but Jaina would not feel at ease until she could inspect the wards for herself. She would have to consult the Guardians, of course, and perhaps Modera. She had not necessarily expected that discovering the truth would be easy, but the mystery of the missing magebane was turning into more of a headache than she had initially anticipated.

 _Another dead end..._

Jaina stood silent for a long time, lost in her own thoughts, when a polite cough from Auriana pulled her back to reality. She glanced up, and was somewhat surprised to see Auriana staring back at her with luminous blue eyes and an empathetic expression.

"Are you alright?" Auriana asked.

For a moment, Jaina considered lying.

"I… actually, no. I'm not. Betrayal gets _old_ , Auriana," she sighed. "I'm sure you agree."

"Sadly," Auriana snorted softly, rubbing a weary hand along the back of her neck. "This... conspiracy… it traces back as far as Draenor. Perhaps even further. So far they've come after me, and Anduin… but what if they decide it's not enough? These people are dangerous. I wouldn't put it past them to perpetuate another Theramore, if that's what it took to get what they want."

Jaina's stomach clenched. She would not wish the horror of that day on anyone, though she knew Auriana was right, and that there were those in the world who would not hesitate to perpetuate a similar atrocity if they thought it would further their goals. She might have even _been_ one of those people, once, but now...

"It's funny, you and I have never really talked about Theramore…" she said slowly, locking eyes with Auriana. "Why is that?"

Auriana considered the question seriously for a moment, tilting her head to one side as she struggled to find the right words.

"I suppose… I didn't want to intrude on your pain," she said carefully. "Theramore… it was home, but realistically I only lived there for a few years before I went to Dalaran, and then after that, I was largely based in Stormwind. It wasn't mine in the same way that it was yours."

"It was still a part of you," Jaina countered, though she could appreciate that Auriana had remained silent out of respect. "You lost people there, too."

Auriana smiled sadly, and leaned back up against the doorframe with a wistful sigh.

"I'm not sure it's because of the wedding, but I've been thinking about them a lot lately," she admitted. "Especially my father."

"He was a good man," Jaina agreed. "He was always smiling."

She could remember Auriana's father as well as if she had seen him only yesterday, much as she could recall hundreds of other faces who had perished with her city. Benedict Fenwild had been tall, and handsome, with a kind heart and a deep and abiding sense of honour.

"He was," Auriana said fondly. "Though I wonder what he would think of me now. The future Queen of Stormwind…"

She absentmindedly adjusted her skirts, as if there were people judging her suitability as a queen even here.

"He would be proud. Any father would be proud of you," Jaina said firmly. "And don't you dare try to argue that point."

Auriana smiled properly at that; perhaps the first true, broad smile Jaina had ever seen grace her features, and some of the tension left her shoulders.

"I'm not sure…" she said skeptically, her eyes sparkling. "He was Kul Tiran. Stubborn and proud. Varian is a king, of course, but only a measly King of Stormwind. Bad enough that I'm half Lordaeronian as it is."

Despite herself, Jaina smirked.

"Well, we Kul Tirans are a superior breed of human," she agreed, trying to sound as haughty and serious as she could.

Auriana laughed, and a moment of warm, genuine camaraderie passed between the two women. Jaina had rarely heard Auriana speak so openly to her feelings, much less make a joke that was not sarcastic, and she decided that she rather liked seeing that side of her.

All too soon, however, Auriana's expression grew contemplative once more.

"I wish he were here to walk me down the aisle," she whispered. "I asked Khadgar, actually, and I'm honoured that he said yes, but…"

"It isn't the same," Jaina finished, her voice soft.

"No, it's not."

Auriana pushed a loose strand of hair back from her face, and shook her head with a wry grin.

"You know why I'm really sad he's not here? I'll never get to see him lecture Varian about treating me well and keeping me safe. Can you imagine?" she snorted. "Threatening to keelhaul Varian if he breaks my heart…"

"I'd pay good money to see that," Jaina admitted, grinning. "Though for what it's worth, I've known Varian for a very long time. He would ever break your heart."

Auriana nodded, and lowered her gaze in a futile attempt to hide her blush. Despite everything, she was quite obviously a woman in love, and Jaina was pleased to see that she was at least somewhat excited about her wedding, even if it were perhaps a far grander affair than she may have preferred. She was good for Varian, Jaina thought, much as Kalec had been good for Jaina herself, and she firmly believed it was about damned time that they all had a little happiness in their lives.

"I know. That's one of the reasons I agreed to marry him," Auriana said slowly. "Speaking of which…"

"Yes?"

"Jaina… I… well, I don't… have many close friends," Auriana started awkwardly.

Her gaze flicking up towards the ceiling so that she didn't have to look Jaina in the eye, and she looked worried and vaguely hopeful all at once.

"Auri…" Jaina murmured sympathetically.

"No, it's alright. Mostly my fault, really - but… that's not the point," she mumbled.

"What is?"

"Um… well… this probably isn't the time to ask, but since we're talking... I was wondering if you might be my attendant at the wedding? My bridesmaid?" Auriana said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

It was just about the last question Jaina expected to be asked, and for a moment she was simply too stunned to say a word. Unfortunately, Auriana appeared to interpret her silence as rejection, and she immediately began to ramble, anxiously tangling her hands in her skirts as she did.

"It would be nice to have someone from Kul Tiras there to honour my father's heritage. Not to mention that I have enormous respect for you; both for what you've done for me, and for who you are to both Varian and Anduin. I can't really think of any other woman I…"

"Auri," Jaina said quickly, holding up a hand. "Stop. I would be honoured."

Auriana sighed in open relief, and her hands stilled.

"Oh. Good," she said, smiling shyly. "I… um… well, I'm sure Varian's chamberlain will be in touch to bore you with the details. He's been harping on at me to choose an attendant for weeks."

"I look forward to it," Jaina said honestly. "In the meantime, I will continue to investigate the issue of the magebane. I will find the thief, I promise you."

"I know you will," Auriana said confidently.

She straightened, looking far more comfortable than she had only moments before, and Jaina supposed she ought to be pleased that at least one good thing had come out of today. Something had changed between them, and Jaina was glad. She smiled.

"Ah… I ought to be getting back to Stormwind," Auriana added, glancing briefly towards the door. "It's going to be dark, soon, and Varian frets if I've been gone too long."

"I'm sure he does," Jaina said, not at all surprised by Varian's protectiveness.

"Do you need me for anything else?" Auriana asked.

"No," Jaina said, waving her off. "I can finish up here. You get back to your fussy King."

Auriana chuckled, and stepped out of the warded storage room so that she could cast a teleport. She offered Jaina a brief nod of thanks, before calling on her magic and easily opening a rift back home to Stormwind.

"Have a good evening, Jaina," she said quietly, as the warm blue glow of her power enveloped her slender form.

"And you, Auriana. Stay safe."


	3. Chapter Three

**Varian**

Varian had anticipated returning to Auriana soon after she was done with the tailor, but had been sidetracked by an issue with the Stormwind merchant's guild that consumed his entire afternoon. Lately it seemed as if everyone on Azeroth needed his attention, even more so than usual, and he was counting down the days until he could whisk Auriana away for a few days of much needed solitude. He was especially anxious to return to her after her antagonistic encounter with Duke Anguile earlier that morning, and he found himself walking very swiftly back through the Keep towards his chambers.

He wasn't sure whether Auriana would still be engaged with the tailor, but he thought that his study was as good a place as any to seek her out. As he rounded the hallway that joined his bedchamber to his study, however, he heard a series of muffled banging noises, followed by several low, throaty grunts. Frowning, Varian exchanged a curious look with one of his equally nonplussed guards; but before anyone could provide him with an explanation, the air was split by an unmistakably furious, high pitched shriek.

"Auriana!" he bellowed, his heart leaping suddenly into his throat.

Varian ripped a polearm from the hands of the closest guard as he charged flat out towards his study, and forced the door open with a single powerful kick. He raised his weapon threateningly, practically foaming at the mouth with rage as he prepared to strike down whoever it was who _dared_ to threaten his woman...

And stopped.

His study looked as if it had been hit by a small bomb. Auriana was standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by a pile of scattered books and papers. Her hair and her dress were slightly dishevelled, as if she'd been rolling around on the floor, though otherwise she appeared unharmed. Her right arm was held rigidly at her side, her hand clenched into a tight fist, while her left was stretched out towards the back of Varian's study. Arcane magic glowed brightly about her fingertips; the unremitting force of her power pinning a very surprised blood elf to the wall.

Varian's mouth fell open, and he unwittingly allowed his polearm to drop to his side as he tried to comprehend the bizarre scene arranged before him. There was no mistaking the familiar shimmer of the elf's fine blonde hair, nor her fitted red and gold armour, or the distinctive green eyes of her people. Varian was not, however, used to seeing her bound to his wall by ropes of shimmering magic, and it was some time before he could gather himself well enough to speak.

" _Valeera_?"

"Varian!"

Along with Broll Bearmantle, Valeera Sanguinar had been one of Varian's companions during his time in the Crimson Ring. She was a talented, cunning fighter, and had proven her personal loyalty to Varian many times. Admittedly, she could also be brash and headstrong, though he could not quite fathom why she would want to pick a fight with Auriana. That said, he could not think of any other explanation for the state of his study, nor the fierce, defensive anger in Auriana's posture.

Varian shook his head, vaguely wondering whether he was dreaming, when he heard the clatter of boots on stone as four royal guards burst into the room behind him. They all had weapons raised defensively, even the man from whom Varian had appropriated the polearm, though they paused in surprise to behold Valeera pinned beneath Auriana's power.

"Stand down," Varian ordered quickly.

"Are you sure, sire?" the captain asked, his eyes darting nervously toward Valeera. "We permitted Miss Sanguinar to enter your quarters, as per our standing orders, but…"

"It's fine, Captain," Varian insisted, passing his stolen polearm back to its original owner. "Everything is well in hand. You may leave, and close the… oh."

Varian glanced back over his right shoulder, and realised that there was little point in ordering his men to close the door behind them. In his frantic panic to get to Auriana, he had kicked the door clean off its hinges, and it now lay in splinters on the floor.

"Ah… belay that order, Captain," he amended. "Though I would appreciate if you could alert my chamberlain about the door. He'll have it fixed."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the captain said swiftly. "We'll be right outside if you need us for anything."

He glanced skeptically at Valeera one last time before he left, ushering his men ahead of him as he stepped gingerly across the ruined door and back out into the corridor. Varian waited until they were well out of earshot, before he stepped forward and placed a calming hand on Auriana's shoulder. She had not so much twitched a muscle in the time since he had entered the room, merely staring up at Valeera with the cold, implacable glare that she typically reserved for her enemies.

"Friend of yours?" Auriana asked drily.

She opened her fist, and a handful of long blonde hair tumbled down onto the floor. Varian snorted.

"Ah - Auriana Fenwild, meet Valeera Sanguinar. I consider Valeera a close friend, when she isn't breaking into my rooms. Valeera, Auriana is…"

"Your betrothed," Valeera finished, cutting him off with her typical spirited bluntness. "Yes, I know,"

Curiously, she did not appear overly concerned by her current predicament. Her brilliant green eyes were fixed on Auriana's face with a penetrating intensity, and she made no attempt to escape from her magical bindings. Her calmness made Varian suspect that he knew what was going on, though he couldn't believe Valeera had been so foolhardy.

"You can let her go now," he told Auriana, squeezing her shoulder to emphasise his point. "Please."

For a moment, he thought she might refuse, but she simply shrugged, and released her magic with a wave of her hand. She did not lower Valeera gently to the ground, however, instead simply cutting off the spell and allowing the blood elf to tumble rather gracelessly to the floor.

"Always good to see you, Valeera," Varian sighed, stepping forward to help her back to her feet.

She was breathing heavily, as was Auriana, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

"And you, Varian," she replied brightly.

The moment she was standing, Valeera threw her arms impulsively around his neck; moving so quickly that he did not have time to dodge. Varian patted her shoulder awkwardly, but only endured the uncomfortable embrace for a few seconds before he gently but firmly prised her arms away.

He glanced back over at Auriana, and was unsurprised to see her lips drawn into a tight, thin line. Her expression was flat and unreadable, though Varian could practically hear her teeth grinding, even from across the room. Certainly, he could hardly blame her for her irritation, especially given what she had been through over the past few months, but he hoped she would not be _too_ upset...

"Auriana…"

"I… I should leave you two to get reacquainted," she said stiffly. "Excuse me."

"Wait… Auri!"

He lunged towards her, but by the time he reached the ruined door, she had already slipped out into the corridor, and was gone.

Varian swore under his breath, and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He wasn't sure whether he should chase after her, but eventually decided that it was probably best to give her some space to cool off. Auriana was fiercely independent, and if he chased after her now, Varian knew he would likely do more harm than good. He would speak to her later, of course, but for now he turned his full attention to the more immediate problem of Valeera.

"What were you thinking?" he snapped. "She could have _killed_ you."

"I had the situation under control," Valeera said blithely, sounding surprisingly confident for a woman who had been entirely incapacitated only moments ago.

Of course, lack of confidence had never been Valeera's problem.

"I can see that," Varian growled, narrowly resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"She has quite the reputation, your betrothed. I wanted to get her measure for myself," Valeera explained, confirming Varian's earlier suspicions.

He supposed he could see the logic in her plan. Valeera prided herself on her formidable combat skills, and she could ask for no fiercer opponent than Auriana. Of course, that didn't change the fact that sneaking up on Auriana was a spectacularly bad idea, and that Valeera was lucky to be alive - even if she didn't realise it.

"So this is how you make friends?" he asked wearily. "If you wanted to get to know her, why not just _talk_ to her?"

"And where is the fun in that?" Valeera said archly, as she bent down to retrieve one of her signature daggers from where it had fallen under Varian's desk.

"If you know Auriana by reputation, then you know what she can do! What if she had lost control? You could have endangered the entire Keep!"

Varian tried not to sound like he was lecturing a child, but it was a very difficult thing. Valeera's eyes narrowed.

"Says the man who keeps her in his bedroom!" she retorted hotly.

"I don't go out of my way to provoke her! Valeera…"

"Please, Varian, if she can deal with _you_ on a regular basis, she can certainly handle _me_ ," she continued. "Besides, I've never seen a berserker in action, it would be fascinating…"

"No," Varian growled. "It wouldn't."

His voice was flat, and hard, and even Valeera would not dare to argue with him when he used that tone. She gave him a swift, penetrating look, but conceded the point with a twitch of her long, delicate eyebrows. She turned away, and resumed her search for her second missing dagger.

"I spoke with Broll before coming here. _He_ said he got to fight her in the arena," she added quietly.

 _Ah,_ Varian thought. _So_ that _was it…_

Valeera was fiercely competitive, and it would have rankled her to no end that she was the only one of their little trio who had not yet tested her strength against Auriana. She hated to be left out, to be left behind, and was willing to do whatever it took to prove herself.

"Did Broll happen to mention that she beat him? Quite handily, in fact," Varian pointed out.

He suddenly spied Valeera's second dagger behind his chaise, and held it out for her to take.

"We both know that I'm better than that old bear!" Valeera insisted, accepting the proffered dagger and tucking it firmly into her belt.

She waved away his concerns with a flick of her slender wrist, and Varian couldn't help but to let out a low, dry chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Valeera could be a lot to handle, but he could not deny that he had rather missed her audacity and boundless energy.

"Don't let him hear you say that," he said warningly.

Valeera laughed, the sound as high and bright as clarion bells. Besides fighting, there were few things she enjoyed more than ribbing Broll, and Varian hoped the Archdruid was well prepared for the blood elf-shaped storm that was surely heading his way.

"Thank you for deciding to pick fight in my study, by the way, I was worried that it looking was too clean and organised," he said, nudging a fallen book with his foot.

Valeera ignored him.

"I have decided that I like her. Your mage, I mean," she said, with a decisive nod.

"I wasn't aware I needed your approval," Varian said wryly.

He leaned back up against his desk, watching Valeera closely as she smoothed her tousled hair, and pulled her armour back into place.

"Of course you need the approval of your friends!" she insisted fiercely. "We _are_ friends, are we not?"

"Right now, I'm not entirely sure…" Varian needled her, hiding a smirk as he gestured to the chaos that had once been his study.

"You know, Broll said something very similar…" Valeera said sullenly. "I'm starting to believe that _neither_ of you are happy to see me."

She pouted prettily back at him, widening her bright green eyes in an attempt to look as innocent as possible. Anyone else might have been fooled by such a display, but Varian knew Valeera far too well to fall for such an obvious ploy.

"And what did you say to Broll _before_ he questioned your friendship, hmm?" he asked.

Valeera's pout vanished almost instantly, and her lips spread in a sly, cat-like grin.

"I'm not here to talk about the old bear…" she said slowly.

"No," Varian rumbled drily, "You're here to attack my betrothed."

"I underestimated her," Valeera admitted, which in itself was a rare thing. "She's quick; very quick. I _had_ heard rumours that she was one of the most powerful mages on Azeroth, but she's more than even I expected."

"You have no idea," Varian assured her, his chest warming with pride at the thought of Auriana's abilities.

"Actually...I'm fairly sure I can see what she is better than you can," Valeera said, tilting her head to one side. "I'm a blood elf, remember? We have a certain affinity for the arcane."

"You can… sense her power?" Varian asked, genuinely curious.

Valeera nodded.

"Her magical aura is… unbelievable. Trust me when I say that _you_ , in fact, have no idea."

Her voice was calm, but Varian was not blind to the sudden spark of pure hunger that ignited deep within her bright green eyes, and he was starkly reminded of something Auriana had once told him long ago.

 _Magic is addictive._

"Drain her energy, and you'll answer to me," he growled."Friend or no."

He could recall all too well the disastrous consequences of the time she had drained Broll in a fit of pique, and would not stand for such a thing to happen to Auriana.

"I wouldn't even think of it, Varian!" Valeera exclaimed, looking thoroughly affronted. "Well, I mean, I would probably _think_ about it - the woman is practically a walking Sunwell - but I'd never actually _do_ it. I don't do things like that any more."

It was so typical of Valeera, he thought; the bout of passionate, impulsive behaviour, followed by an enthusiastic, earnest act of contrition. To other people, her abrupt vacillation may have made her appear insincere, but Varian knew that she felt each contradictory emotion as deeply as any other.

"You know that my loyalties lie with you and your family. That includes her, now, too," she whispered.

"I know," Varian said seriously. "Thank you."

It suddenly seemed to dawn on Valeera that her actions may have put Varian in a rather awkward position, and she glanced worriedly towards the door.

"I hope I didn't cause any trouble for you," she said.

"No. Auri's just… er… shy," Varian assured her, though he suspected it would not be that simple. "Although, you could have chosen a better way to introduce yourself."

"I think I chose the perfect way to introduce myself. You're Varian Wrynn. I can't have you married off to just _any_ woman, you know," Valeera insisted.

She was clearly apologetic for any trouble she may have caused, but Varian doubted she could be convinced that her actions had been anything other than warranted.

"Hmph," he grunted. "Where have you been, anyway? I _needed_ you here. I don't know if you've heard, but..."

"Broll explained everything. I am sorry, Varian. I've been… elsewhere," she said evasively. "I came as soon as I heard there was trouble, but by the time I reached the Eastern Kingdoms, it seemed as if everything was over. Next thing I hear, there is to be a royal wedding. I didn't even know you were courting!"

She looked at him askance, and Varian realised that she was probably hurt that he had not confided his feelings in her earlier.

"It wasn't planned, Valeera. It just sort of… happened. Believe me, I am the _last_ person who ever expected that I would fall in love again," he confessed.

He scratched his chin awkwardly, not entirely certain that he wanted to discuss his intimate feelings with Valeera, of all people. She was a good friend, but there were still some things that were not up for discussion.

"In any case, I'm glad you're here," he offered.

"Some of your people might disagree," Valeera said flatly, her lip curling upward in a delicate sneer. "Your guards were reluctant to permit me access to the Keep until Broll vouched for me. They still look at me with suspicion."

"Everyone has been on edge lately, and you know how it is, with the Alliance and the Horde," Varian explained, though he sympathised with her frustration. "They look at you and see a blood elf."

"My loyalty is to you, not to the troll! Or to Silvermoon, for that matter," Valeera said, her small fists balling emphatically.

"I know. And I am grateful," Varian said. "Though I _would_ appreciate it if you could refrain from attacking Auriana again."

"Testing her. I was _testing_ her," Valeera corrected sternly. "But… as you wish."

It was quite remarkable, Varian thought, how she managed to make it sound as if she were doing him a great favour by not assaulting the woman he loved.

"Thank you," he said, somehow allowing only the _slightest_ hint of sarcasm to enter his voice.

Of course, Valeera was too sharp not to notice, and he could practically _see_ her fighting back the urge to stick her tongue out at him. A small frown flickered across her delicate features, and she seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, before settling on an expression of grudging contrition.

"Should I apologise?" she asked finally. "I could go after her…"

"I think an apology is warranted," Varian agreed, "But I would suggest waiting until after I have had a chance to speak to her."

He pushed off his desk, standing up to his full height, and gestured towards his dining room.

"We typically take dinner in about an hour, if you wanted to join us. Anduin will be there, and you could invite Broll, it if you wished," he proposed. "You could take the time to get settled, while I talk to Auriana?"

Valeera considered the question thoughtfully.

"An excellent plan," she concluded, looking mollified. "You will find your consort, and I will harass the old bear."

She gave Varian a mischievous smile as she turned on her heel and made her way towards the door, stepping delicately around the fallen papers and debris as if she were not the one responsible for them having been there in the first place.

"Don't antagonize Broll _too_ much," he called warningly.

"Do you doubt my skills, Varian?" Valeera asked, pausing in the ruined doorway and arching an elegant brow in his direction. "I will antagonize him _precisely_ the right amount."

* * *

After Valeera had departed, Varian sent for a few of his chamber maids to clean up his study, before he made his way swiftly down to the Stormwind arena. There were a few places around the Keep that Auriana favoured, but if she were angry, the arena was where she would most likely be found; taking out her frustrations on a defenseless training dummy. Of course, there was always the possibility that she returned to her quarters in Dalaran, but Varian had hoped that she was not so upset as to run quite that far.

The arena was usually empty at this time of night, most soldiers having retired to their homes or back to the Stormwind barracks for the evening. For the past few months, Varian had taken advantage of the quiet and private evenings to continue Auriana's education in swordplay. She had initially found Varian's insistence that she learn to defend herself with a blade somewhat ludicrous, given her powers, but over time had come to enjoy the discipline in its own right.

Today, as he had hoped, Varian found Auriana hacking away at a practice dummy, her forehead already beaded with sweat as she drilled the same three or four forms over and over again. As little as she was, she would always be at a disadvantage in a fight, both in terms of physical strength and reach, but she made up for her shortcomings with a fierce determination to be the best. She was fast, too, and clever, and Varian didn't doubt that she could one day become a very fine swordswoman if she continued to permit him to train her.

Auriana glanced up as Varian approached, acknowledging him with a brief nod as she finished her last movement, before stepping back and allowing her wooden practice sword to drop to her side. Her hair was loose and wild around her face, and she was breathing heavily with effort. She was still wearing her formal boots, but had stripped off her dark grey dress in favour of her form-fitting undershirt and soft leggings. It was not the most ideal training outfit, perhaps, but it seemed to be holding up well enough.

"You overextended on that last pass forward," Varian said, by way of greeting. "Widen your stance, and soften your knees. Don't let your blade get that far away from your centre of balance."

"Noted," Auriana replied, wiping the sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand.

She drove her blade point first into the dirt, and turned her back on Varian as she made a half-hearted attempt to tame her unruly hair. She was obviously tense, though whether it was because she was intently focused on her exercises, or because of Valeera - or because of something else entirely - Varian couldn't tell.

"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching out to place a gentle hand on the small of her back. "You're not hurt?"

Auriana started at his touch, and glanced up at him over her shoulder with cool reluctance.

"I'm fine. It's just been a weird day," she muttered, turning back to face him as she finished tying off her hair. "Though Jaina did agree to be my bridesmaid, so that's something."

"That's wonderful," Varian said, smiling down at her warmly.

He knew she had been fretting over the asking, and had been putting it off for weeks. He had eventually offered to ask Jaina on her behalf, hating to see her so stressed, but Auriana had insisted that she be the one to do it personally.

"It is," Auriana said faintly, though she did not look especially pleased.

"I'm sorry about Valeera," Varian said quickly. "I know she can be…"

"Impulsive? Reckless?" Auriana supplied drily. " _Stupid_?"

"All of those things," he admitted, shaking his head.

"Why did she jump me, anyway? I thought you two were supposed to be friends?" she asked, scowling darkly. "I had just returned from Dalaran, and went to wait for you in the study when she comes out of nowhere, waving those shiny daggers of hers about."

"Ah… over-enthusiasm and poor judgement?" Varian suggested. "Apparently, she had heard of your martial prowess, and wanted to test her skills against you."

"That is the single worst idea I've ever heard," Auriana said flatly.

She flexed the muscles in her shoulders slightly, and Varian could tell she was struggling to resist the urge to call on her magic.

"Well, impulse control isn't exactly Valeera's strong suit," he admitted. "I'm sorry, I had no idea she would even be here today, let alone that she would try to… test you."

" _Testing_ me? Is that what we're calling it?"

Auriana grunted deep in her throat, and rapped her fingers against the hilt of her practice sword.

"She's lucky I realised who she was before I gave her a _real_ thrashing," she added softly.

Varian cocked an eyebrow.

"You _knew_?"

"I had an inkling," Auriana said. "I wasn't completely certain, but it seemed the most reasonable explanation. How many other blood elves are allowed to walk freely in Stormwind, much less make it all the way to your chambers? I'm sure she's skilled at her craft, but it seemed unlikely that she was able to bypass _all_ our protections. Therefore - someone let her in."

She stepped clear of Varian's reach, pulling her sword free from the dirt and testing her grip with a thoughtful scowl.

"Ah… for what it's worth, she approves," Varian ventured. "Of you, I mean. For me."

He had honestly meant to make things better, but he regretted his choice of words almost immediately as Auriana shot him a look of cool, skeptical disdain.

"Oh, great," she muttered witheringly. "Now I feel _all_ better."

Auriana rolled her eyes, before turning away to focus her attention on the practice dummy once more. She was clearly not in the mood to talk, though she did not protest as Varian leaned up against the arena fence nearby to observe as she began a series of steady, deliberate passes. His eyes narrowed contemplatively as he admired her form, and for a long while the only sounds in the arena were the scrape of Auriana's boots in the dirt and the short, sharp whisper of her tightly controlled breathing.

As slowly as Auriana moved, however, she struck at the dummy with an unusual aggression. Her blows were precise and measured, but she put far more strength behind her swings than was strictly necessary. Her muscles were rigid and strained with the effort, and Varian didn't doubt that she would be sore in the morning if she maintained such an intense pace.

"So... that was you going easy on her?" he asked, finally breaking the long, heavy silence that had arisen between them.

"Well, you didn't have to scrape pieces of her off the ceiling, did you?"

Auriana paused in her exercises, and she suddenly seemed very interested in inspecting the dull wooden edge of her practice blade. Her brows drew together in a heavy scowl, and she took a few moments to gather her breath before she spoke once more.

"She's very beautiful," she murmured, not looking Varian in the eye.

"Valeera?" he queried, thrown by the unexpected comment. "I suppose. I've never really given it that much thought."

Auriana snorted.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe..."

Varian stood up straighter, and folded his arms across his chest as he carefully studied Auriana's tense and wary expression. Was she _jealous_? He had thought her merely irritated by Valeera's poor choice of introduction, but perhaps there was something deeper at work. He _had_ seen Auriana lose herself to a jealous rage once before, but in that case she had been provoked by the actions of one Cathelora Anguile. Valeera, on the other hand, was quite obviously just a friend, and Varian couldn't understand why Auriana would feel threatened.

"Valeera is like my sister, and my _little_ sister, at that," he said firmly. "When I met her, I couldn't even remember my own name. And by the time I did… well, that was just about the last thing on my mind."

He approached Auriana cautiously, the way he might approach a wild animal, and very gently took the practice sword from her hands. She released the blade to him willingly enough, and made no attempt to argue as he dropped it carelessly to the ground. She also permitted him to slide his hands around her waist and draw her against him, though he could feel the rigid tension running through the muscles in her back. Emboldened, Varian leaned down for a kiss, but at the last moment, she turned her head slightly to the right so that his lips found her pale cheek instead.

He frowned.

"Auri… I don't give a damn whether people think she's the most beautiful woman on Azeroth. She isn't _you_ ," he whispered huskily, the warmth of his breath sending faint clouds of vapour into the air.

He brushed a finger along the line of Auriana's lower lip, and was gratified to feel her tremble beneath his touch. She still seemed conflicted, however, as though she wanted to both be close to him, and to run away at the same time. When they had first begun their relationship, she might have even done exactly that; though for now, at least, she remained standing in the warmth of his embrace.

"Look at me," he murmured, gently turning her chin upwards so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "Are you mad at me?"

Auriana sighed, and her entire body suddenly seemed to sag in his arms.

"No. I'm not mad at you. Simply… not the best day," she muttered tiredly. "First Anguile and his stupid threats, then that damn tailor of yours talking _at_ me like I didn't even exist! Jaina had a lead on the magebane, by the way, but even though we figured out _how_ it was stolen, we still have absolutely no idea who, or why, and it's all just… _irritating_. Then your blood elf friend shows up and scares me half out of my skin, and she's all blonde, and _tall_ , and…"

Auriana broke off abruptly, and pinched the bridge of her nose very hard.

"Sorry. I'm rambling."

"Don't be sorry," Varian insisted, sliding his hand down to stroke the pale skin of her neck.

Her unexpected burst of jealousy suddenly made a great deal more sense, and Varian felt his stomach clench with guilt. In truth, he now doubted that any of Auriana's irritation really had anything to do with Valeera herself, and _everything_ to do with the fact that she felt both uncertain and overwhelmed. He doubted his having sprung a the tailor on her had helped, either, given her frequent bouts of insecurity about her appearance. Varian _had_ intended for the gesture to be supportive, though in hindsight he realised he probably should have consulted her beforehand. Auriana had been under a great deal of stress of late, between the repeated attempts on her life, and her continued preparations for taking on the mantle of Queen, but he had been so eager to finally have her as his wife that he he had not, perhaps, given her feelings of hesitation his proper consideration.

"If anyone should apologise, it should be me," he added quickly. "I've wanted to see you in a wedding dress for a very long time, and I think my excitement got the better of me. I shouldn't have pushed the tailor on you like that, especially after your run in with Anguile. And Valeera… well, 'poor timing' doesn't even really begin to cover it…"

"Not your fault. You can hardly be expected to control her actions," Auriana conceded. "And as for the tailor… well, as you said. I can't show up to my own wedding naked."

"Still. I could have prepared you better. I know he can be… blunt…" Varian said, with an apologetic scowl.

"That's one way of putting it," Auriana scoffed, with a rueful shake of her head. "I have no arse to speak of, apparently."

"Fortescue _said_ that?" Varian asked incredulously.

"Among other things," Auriana confirmed. "I have pretty eyes, though, so at least we have that."

"I'll have him executed in the morning, obviously," he rumbled, only half joking.

That, at least, earned him a small smile, and Varian took advantage of Auriana's brief moment of relaxation to draw her closer against his body.

"I happen to have a great deal of affection for your arse," he assured her, running his broad hands appreciatively over her smooth curves.

Varian wasn't lying. If he had thought he had found Auriana attractive before, it was _nothing_ compared to how he felt about her now. Ever since she had accepted his proposal, he had found her nearly irresistible, and he found it very difficult to keep his hands to himself when she was around. The slightest movement of her hips was enough to send fire burning through his veins, and he was quite frankly insulted that the tailor - or anyone else for that matter - would consider her anything less than perfect.

"Ah… if it makes you feel any better, the first time he met me, he told me that I ought to lay off my exercise routine a bit, particularly when it comes to my legs. Apparently, when I wear a fitted pair of trousers or breeches, I look like I'm 'trying to smuggle two large smoked hams'."

Auriana's lips twitched.

"He didn't…" she breathed, her eyes going wide in disbelief.

"That's a direct quote," Varian confirmed.

"He's either the bravest man in the world, or the stupidest…" Auriana marvelled. "Why do you put up with him?"

"Because he's actually the _least_ annoying tailor I've ever met," he explained, shrugging. "Twice as good as the others, and finishes in half the time. He nearly never bothers to measure me anymore, either. He knows what I like - and that means less time I have to spend telling him."

Auriana's eyes narrowed, as if she wasn't quite sure if he were telling tall tales, but it seemed as if Varian's little story had done the trick. Her expression had softened, and she no longer looked _quite_ so ready to set the entire arena on fire.

He kissed the top of her head.

"Do you want to spar? We still have an hour or so before dinner…"

He bent down to retrieve Auriana's practice sword, and handed it back to her hilt first.

"I suppose you invited Valeera to dinner," she said warily, though she nevertheless accepted the sword.

"I did," Varian confirmed, "But if you would prefer to dine alone…?"

For a second, he wondered if Auriana might take him up on the offer to take dinner privately, but she eventually conceded with a shake of her head.

"No. Valeera is your friend. It might be nice to talk to her when she isn't trying to stab me," she said wryly. "But first…"

She gave him a small, effortful smile, and nodded towards the rack of practice swords. Much like Varian, it seemed that she preferred to work out her feelings through physical means, and he was more than willing to oblige her. He quickly jogged over to the weapon rack, stripping off his heavy coat as he ran, and in no time at all they were were locked in a fierce but well-controlled duel.

Varian did not go easy on Auriana - he never did - but he could tell almost immediately that she was not fighting nearly as well as she could have. He had come to know her style almost as well as he knew his own, and while she was clearly trying, it was also clear that she was still distracted. A misplaced foot here, a weak block there, and in a real fight she would be dead to rights.

"You're losing focus, Auri…" he admonished her gently, taking advantage of an awkward hitch in her rhythm to slip beneath her guard and force her body to body.

Up this close, Varian had a clear advantage of both height and weight. He used his superior bulk to force her backwards, before he snatched for her right wrist and twisted it, forcing her to drop her sword. With his other hand he brought his sword around with a practiced flourish, smirking triumphantly as the dull wood kissed her throat.

Auriana was not one to easily surrender, however, even when held in such an untenable position, and she glared up at him with eyes of pure fire.

"Oh, I'll show you _focus_ , Wrynn…" she muttered.

Varian started in surprise as she suddenly reached out and grasped his sword hand tight with her left, and he cried out in alarm as he felt tendrils of pure ice race up his arm. It was as if his entire right arm had been suddenly been doused in freezing water, and it was such an unexpected shock to his body that his hands reflexively twitched open. His practice sword tumbled to the dirt, and his grip on Auriana's left wrist loosened.

Sensing weakness, she wrenched herself free from his grasp. Her eyes now blazed bright white, and Varian barely had time to brace his muscles before she drew her hands together and sent a powerful wave of arcane magic slamming into his chest. He was thrown a good forty feet across the arena by the strength of the blast, and it was only by virtue of his incredible reflexes that he landed more or less on his feet.

Auriana did not give him a mere second to recover, using a second burst of power to summon her sword back to her hand as she hurtled towards him. As her fingers closed around the hilt, she blinked, only to reappear in front of Varian in a flash of blazing light. He had been knocked to his knees by the power of her initial arcane spell, and Auriana now took full advantage to force him into the same position that _she_ had been in only moments ago.

There was a distinct glimmer of pride in Auriana's eyes as she stared down at him, her sword at his throat, and despite his compromised position, Varian found it hard not to grin. As he had hoped, the simple act of sparring had been enough to dull Auriana's edge, and he could tell from the spark in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks that she was actually rather enjoying herself.

"No fair," he teased, never taking his eyes off her blade. "You used magic."

"Real battles are very rarely _fair_ ," Auriana pointed out, pressing the point of her sword ever so slightly into his neck. "Though it _has_ been a while since you've been in the field, perhaps you've forgotten? They say the memory is one of the first things to go…"

She stared at him through her long lashes, her face the very picture of innocent concern. It seemed that she, too, was now fighting back a smile, though her blade never wavered.

"Oh, _now_ you're in trouble…"

Varian's muscles coiled, and he abruptly struck out at Auriana's left knee. He knew exactly how to apply enough pressure to make her knee buckle, without causing her any real harm. Surprised, she pitched forward, and tumbled into Varian's waiting arms. He quickly wrenched the sword from her grasp and threw it clear, then yanked her down so that she went flying over his shoulder into the dirt. She rolled sideways immediately, trying to get back to her feet, but Varian had the upper hand now, and he did not intend to give Auriana an opening.

After a brief struggle, they both ended up sitting in the dirt, with Varian's long legs stretched out along either side of Auriana's body. From a distance, the pose might have even looked romantic, if not for the fact that Varian was using his superior physical strength to keep Auriana trapped against his body.

"I may be getting _old_ , my dear Archmage, but I'm still the king," he rumbled, sliding one hand to her throat, while the other pressed firmly against her taut belly.

The muscles of Auriana's back were rock hard against his chest, and her boots scrabbled in the dirt as she fought to get some purchase against him. Of course, she had little chance of prevailing against him with her arms pinned so tightly that she could barely breathe, but she struggled on determinedly nonetheless. She was a fighter, in every sense of the word, and Varian loved her for it.

"You're magnificent…" he whispered, burying his face in her hair and drinking in her scent.

Varian had not planned the words; they had come tumbling from his mouth unbidden, but for once it seemed he had said the right thing. For the first time that day, he felt Auriana truly relax, softening in his arms and leaning her head back against his chest. She ceased her attempts to escape his grasp, and finally surrendered the fight with a low, quiet sigh.

"You win," Auriana conceded, her tone only the slightest bit begrudging.

"We could go another round?" Varian suggested, nodding towards her lost sword.

"No, I think I've had enough for the day. It's kind of nice just sitting here, actually," she murmured.

Auriana stretched out her feet in the dirt, and wiggled her toes in her boots as she stared up at the darkening sky. The last rays of daylight had well and truly faded below the horizon, and the first stars had ignited overhead. A cool breeze ruffled her dark hair, and for a single previous moment, Varian felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

"I'm sorry," Auriana whispered. "I shouldn't have stormed off, I shouldn't have…"

"Hush," Varian said, interrupting her before she could start rambling again. "You have _nothing_ to apologise for."

Auriana twisted slightly in his arms, and stared up at him with wide, dark eyes. All traces of anger and frustration had faded from her expression through the course of their fight, and now she seemed almost hesitant. She was often such a stark contrast - at once both a confident, deadly warrior, and a shy, wary woman still struggling to figure out her place in the world - but Varian wouldn't have her any other way.

"I know we have dinner soon, but… d-do you think we could stay here for awhile?" she asked hopefully. "I've had just about enough of other people for one day…"

Varian let out a low, dry, chuckle, and gently intertwined his fingers in hers.

"Auri… we can stay here as long as you like," he assured her firmly.

He adjusted his weight slightly so that he was more comfortable, and gathered Auriana close as they stared up at the stars. It may have seen odd, perhaps, the King of Stormwind sitting in the dirt in the middle of his arena while the night closed in around him, but Varian didn't care. He had Auriana, safe and warm in his arms, and that would always, _always_ be enough.


	4. Chapter Four

**Apologies for the delay in updating this chapter. Unfortunately I've had a bit of a crisis of confidence in my writing of late, and I have been seriously considering whether or not to abandon and delete this series. Luckily for me, I have three excellent friends who spent two weeks convincing me that would be a mistake, and who gave me the support I needed to drag myself up and keep going. Thank you, and thank you to all my readers, old and new.**

 **Anduin**

Anduin arrived at dinner that night to find that he, Varian, and Auriana were not dining alone, and that they were to be joined by both Broll and surprisingly, Valeera Sanguinar. He did not know when she had arrived in the city, but it seemed that she had made herself at home in no time at all. She was also just as talkative and bubbly as Anduin remembered, and at first he had a marvellous time catching up with her as she regaled them all with a dozen thrilling stories of her adventures during her absence from Stormwind.

It seemed that not everyone else found her quite so delightful, however, though it took Anduin some time to realise that Auriana was not entirely pleased by the sudden addition of their blood elf guest. Everyone had been cordial and friendly, of course, but there had been a subtle hint of awkwardness that pervaded the entire evening. It didn't help that Varian had spent most of the night shooting worried glances in Auriana's direction, eventually going so far as to end the dinner early so that he could retire her to the privacy of their rooms. Valeera had looked somewhat guilty as Varian and Auriana had left, but as many times as Anduin had asked, Varian declined to provide any kind of explanation for the strangeness of the dinner - and several other dinners that had followed.

Eventually, he had pried the truth of Auriana and Valeera's first encounter from a very reluctant Broll, and he supposed that he could not blame Auriana for her initial reluctance to befriend the overenthusiastic elf. Still, her cool shyness had persisted longer than Anduin had thought it might, and it was only after some very careful observation that he belatedly realised her problem might have something to do with the fact that Valeera was far from the only new face to have arrived in Stormwind of late.

Over the next four weeks, the population of the city grew steadily as people came from far and wide to celebrate the royal wedding. Anduin could scarcely remember seeing the city so full and lively, and he found himself unable to resist being caught up in the jubilant atmosphere. Everywhere he looked, it seemed, was bursting with life, and joy, and colour; enough to make Anduin feel almost as if he were once again a delighted child seeing the beauty of the Alliance capital for the first time.

Even his father had been unusually spirited as the date of the wedding grew closer, but it seemed the only person in Stormwind not thoroughly caught up in the excitement was Auriana herself. Ever since the night of that first dinner, she had been quiet and withdrawn, even more so than usual, and Anduin had begun to fear that Valeera's ill-considered arrival and the constant attention directed Auriana's way might have been enough to change her mind about his father. Auriana had endured all the wedding preparations with a quiet grace, but it was clear that it was not something she would have chosen for herself, and Anduin couldn't help but to worry after her as the day of the wedding grew steadily closer.

He knew that the final week of formal events leading up to the ceremony would likely prove to be her greatest test, starting with the official arrival of the other Alliance leaders into Stormwind. Genn Greymane's family had come to Stormwind several weeks ago, along with a large number of the worgen who resided in Darnassus, but the other representatives were later to arrive. The night elves, for instance, had only entered the city the evening before the formal welcome was scheduled, but as the day of the event itself dawned, there was still one leader who was notably absent.

Unfortunately, Velen was the one person who Anduin had wanted to see more than anyone. He had a lot on his mind, between his worries about Auriana and his desire to be a good prince in support of his father, and he had hoped to share a private conversation with his draenei mentor before they were both caught up in a whirlwind of formal events.

The draenic contingent had thus far not been cooperative with the timing of their arrival, however, forcing Anduin to turn to other means to quiet his racing mind before facing the day ahead. He slipped out of his bed only an hour after first light, and made his way down to the calm familiarity of the Keep's library. If nothing else, reading was a good distraction, and Anduin's nerves briefly faded away as he lost himself in the beautifully illuminated tomes.

While reading helped, however, it did not entirely provide Anduin with the answers that he was seeking, and after awhile he found himself reading the same page over and over again. He sighed, wondering whether he should abandon the pursuit all together, when his idle contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a soft, heavily-accented voice from somewhere behind him.

"Hmm. ' _The Canticles of Eternity, Volume Twenty-Seven_ '. Archbishop Palmingham, I believe. I enjoy a great many works by your human authors, but I always found his writings to be somewhat… pretentious. Not to mention… very lengthy."

"Velen!" Anduin exclaimed excitedly.

He spun eagerly in his seat, and beamed up at the stately draenei now standing over him. Velen was tall, even for one of his kind, and he had the kind of presence that could fill an entire room. Not because he was ostentatious, or intimidating - far from it - but because he radiated a sense of benevolent calm that Anduin could feel in his very bones.

"How did you find me? When did you get here? You know you're invited to the luncheon today, right?"

"One question at a time, young Wrynn," Velen said warmly, raising a hand to slow him down.

Anduin flushed, and closed his book.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I just… I wasn't sure if you would come…"

"Ah, my boy. My people would not have missed such an auspicious ceremony," Velen assured him, as he took a seat at Anduin's side. "The Alliance has suffered many terrible loses in the last few years. It is a wonderful thing to celebrate a union of love, and the promise of the future."

Anduin nodded in agreement. He felt much the same way, even one of the people in question had not been his father.

"Are draenei marriages much like ours?" he asked.

"We have a similar custom, albeit with some differences," Velen confirmed, stroking his beard with a thoughtful expression. "Draenic unions are very solemn, and are not to be entered into lightly. Not that I am suggesting that your father is in any way taking his own nuptials with anything less than the utmost seriousness."

"You live longer," Anduin realised. "When you choose a partner, you're choosing someone who might be with you for thousands of years."

"If one is lucky, yes," Velen agreed.

"Have you ever been married?" Anduin wondered.

He had spent a great deal of time with Velen on the Exodar, but their conversations had largely centered around Anduin's lessons in the Light. While Anduin considered Velen a friend, he was never quite sure whether it was appropriate to speak to the great Prophet the same way he might talk to one of his friends in Stormwind. Then again, he was not the same young, wide-eyed prince he had been when he had first travelled to the Exodar. In a strange way, his recent experiences dodging assassins and protecting Auriana had given him a new confidence, and for the first time he didn't feel _entirely_ like a child next to the ancient draenei.

Unfortunately, Anduin realised far too late that he had asked a rather personal question, as Velen's timeworn face grew haunted and wistful.

"I had a mate. Back home on Argus," he said distantly. "Her name was Nuuri. She was... very beautiful."

Velen's words were oddly accented, as if he had intended to say something else but had changed his mind at the last moment. Anduin often found it difficult to fathom what it might have been like to live for thousands of years, let alone to love someone for as long as Velen obviously had. From the look in his eyes, however, it seemed that Nuuri had suffered much the same fate as the rest of Velen's people, and Anduin instantly regretted having asked the question.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It is quite alright, young prince. Youthful curiosity is not a sin," Velen sighed. "Still… perhaps we ought to focus on what is ahead, not what is behind, hmm?"

A heavy silence fell over the library, and Anduin stared uncertainly down at his hands.

"Er… my father will be delighted that you have come," he ventured tentatively.

"Is that so? He has not always been so quite pleased to see me," Velen said wryly, arching a white, feathered eyebrow.

He was referring, of course, to the fact that Anduin had initially left for his apprenticeship at the Exodar against Varian's wishes. But that had been a different time, and a different place… and a very different Varian.

"You might be surprised," Anduin said earnestly.

"Varian is a good man, but he needs you, as much as you need him. You have been a positive influence on him," Velen agreed, with a sage nod of his head.

"Well, thank you," Anduin said, smiling at the praise, "But it's not just me. It's _her_ , too. Auriana, I mean. His betrothed? He's… happy, moreso than I've ever seen him. Before, it sometimes felt like his emotional range extended only from angry to... less angry."

Velen chuckled at that, his long purple facial appendages twitching in amusement.

"It pleases you to see him this way," he observed.

"Of course it does!" Anduin said. "He's my father. I love him."

"Tell me about his mate, then. I know her only by reputation," Velen prompted encouragingly.

Anduin frowned slightly, wondering if the Prophet disapproved. He knew that Auriana's reputation could be formidable, and he didn't want Velen to get the wrong idea from people who didn't really know her.

"Auri? Well… she's a lot like Father, actually," he said carefully. "She's clever, and brave, and fierce. She's a very powerful mage, you know."

"So I have heard," Velen said, his expression giving nothing away.

"She can be… shy, and wary - which is understandable, given her past - but she's kind, and very funny when you get to know her," Anduin added quickly.

Velen studied him closely. He had penetrating eyes like no one else Anduin had ever seen, and it always felt as if his gaze were finding parts of Anduin that he didn't even know he had.

"You like her," Velen observed simply.

"I do," Anduin admitted. "More… more than I thought I would, actually. Given…"

His thoughts turned briefly to his mother, and he sighed.

"I do not know how it works amongst humans," Velen said, leaning back in his chair. "Will you consider Auriana your... second mother, after the union ceremony?"

"Ah… the term we use is 'stepmother', and… I haven't really given it much thought, actually," Anduin confessed. "There's been a lot going on, and I think Auri might send a fireball my way if I were to start calling her 'Mother'."

He chuckled wryly to himself, but Velen didn't seem to find the comment quite so amusing.

"Why would she do that?" he asked, his forehead creasing in concern.

"Oh, well, I imagine she'd say I was making her feel old," Anduin explained.

Velen, however, still looked nonplussed, and Anduin realised that a joke about aging may not have been quite so funny to a being who was quite literally millenia old.

"Er… it's a human thing. Nevermind," he added, smothering a grin with his hand.

Velen's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he still wasn't quite sure whether Anduin was teasing _him_ , but he declined to press the point further. Instead, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the reading table, tenting his fingers thoughtfully beneath his chin as he studied his young human protege.

"I hear you have had an interesting time of it of late," he said lightly.

Anduin snorted.

"That's one way to put it," he said ruefully, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he remembered fleeing through a storm in Duskwood with murderers close on his heels.

"Is there something bothering you? Beyond your recent brush with mortal peril, I mean?"

Sometimes, Anduin thought Velen _could_ read minds, so uncanny were his instincts. Anduin had not said a word, but in barely a quarter hour of conversation, the Prophet had correctly deduced that he wanted to discuss more than just his father's upcoming wedding. Something had been gnawing at him over the past few months, and Velen was perhaps the only person on Azeroth who might understand how he felt.

"I… well… you've heard I was the target of assassins, obviously..." Anduin started, unsure where to begin.

"Yes," Velen said gravely. "Your father sent a missive to the other leaders of the Alliance, warning us of the potential danger."

Anduin's eyes widened, and for the first time it occurred to him that he and Auriana might not have been the only targets of the mysterious warmongers.

"Y-you haven't had any trouble, have you?" he asked worriedly.

"Not as such," Velen said, giving Anduin a reassuring pat on the arm. "Fortunately for us, the Exodar is a little out of the way for most assassins."

Anduin sighed with relief.

"I'm glad you've been safe," he said. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone. It's been… very stressful."

Anduin had tried to be strong, especially in front of Varian, but it had been difficult to keep up such a front. He had seen how his father had suffered through Auriana's near loss, and he didn't want to add to Varian's burdens by bothering him with his own worrisome thoughts. While the events of the past few months _had_ given Anduin a newfound confidence in his own ability to persevere in the face of adversity, he certainly had no desire to go through anything similar anytime soon. People like Auriana and his father might thrive on the danger and the adrenaline, but for Anduin, there wasn't anything he liked less.

"I h-had to kill a man," he whispered. "He was threatening Auri."

Although Varian, Auriana, and even Broll had assured him he had done the right thing, Anduin still felt conflicted. They were born warriors, and while he knew they did not relish the taking of a life, they were no strangers to violence, either, and sometimes he felt as if they could not possibly comprehend how he felt. Velen, however, was different.

"Ah. I see. And this troubles you?" the elder draenei asked, his brow creasing sympathetically.

"I… I used the Light to do it. It's as if there were something inside me that just… exploded outwards," Anduin said slowly, unsure how to explain.

In a way, he felt he now understood how Auriana must have felt, carrying around the enormous burden of such incredible, bursting power inside her. He knew he had talent as a priest, but he had thus far largely concentrated on the healing arts. It was a different thing entirely to use the Light to burn, to _punish_ , and he was still surprised by how easily he had summoned a force of such wrathful destruction. It sickened him and thrilled him all at once, and he found it difficult to reconcile the simple peace and grace that he knew to be the Light with the power he had called upon in the cave in Duskwood.

"Was that wrong of me? He was going to kill her… but in killing _him…_ did I do something… _evil_?" Anduin wondered. "I know the Light can be used as a weapon, I _know_ that... but in my heart, the reality of it was not what I expected."

He bit his lip, and finally gave voice to the thought that had really been bothering him ever since the dramatic events of the Duskwood.

"Is… is the Light evil, if it can be used to do evil things? Is killing someone always evil, o-or is it relative? People can do terrible things with the Light, but it doesn't… stop them. It didn't stop… _me_ ," he murmured, as he sighed and closed his eyes. "I don't know how to explain this… I've been doubting myself, doubting the Light…"

Velen listened attentively as Anduin rambled, but he did not immediately reply. Anduin was used to such silences, knowing that the Prophet did not like to speak in haste. He was normally able to endure Velen's thoughtfulness with equal composure, but today he found himself fidgeting beneath the table as he waited for his mentor to speak.

"Is a hammer evil?" Velen asked finally.

"What?"

"Your father has not kept you so sheltered that you do not know what a hammer is, I think," Velen teased gently, though his tone was kind.

"Of course I know what a hammer is!" Anduin said earnestly, narrowly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "A hammer isn't evil. How could it be? It's just a tool."

"It can also be a weapon, in the right hands," Velen prompted gently.

"Oh."

Like all the best teachers, Velen did not _give_ Anduin the answers, but simply gave him the support and guidance to find them on his own. It was something Anduin should have seen himself, really, but he had been so distracted with the wedding and everything else going on that he hadn't seen what was right in front of his own eyes.

"You're using the hammer as a metaphor for the Light," he realised. "I've been wondering if the Light can be evil if it can be used to do bad things, but I've been asking the wrong question."

Velen smiled, and nodded his approval.

"What matters is not the tool itself, but the hand the wields it," he agreed, his beard twitching. "Evil does not live in the Light. Evil lives in the hearts of men, or elves, or draenei - men like those who sought to kill you, and your father's mate."

He traced his long fingers over the gold-leafed cover of the book that lay between them as he spoke, his rich voice warming and heartening Anduin with every word.

"I understand that you did a violent thing, and this troubles you. I, too, have used the Light to things that I wish I had not. But acting to prevent evil is not an evil act in itself. You must trust your good heart, Anduin Wrynn."

"Father said something similar, actually," Anduin admitted. "Not quite as eloquently, but… he tried. He thanked me for saving her."

"Then you have done a good thing, no?" Velen suggested, his softly glowing eyes boring into Anduin's own.

Anduin thought of Auriana, and the relief he had felt when he had learned she had been found alive. He could picture the exact look on his father's face as he had cradled her tiny, battered body in his arms, and the raw crack of emotion in Varian's voice as he had thanked Anduin for her life, and the last of his doubts slowly began to fade away.

"Yes," he said finally. "I suppose I did."

"You are not the first priest to ask these questions. I doubt you will ever stop asking them so long as you live," Velen assured him. "I certainly have not, and I am a good many years older than you. But that is the beauty of the Light. We do not need to understand it to feel its power, or to bask in its grace."

He stretched out in his chair, and gazed down at Anduin consideringly as he tried to grapple with the implications of their conversation.

"So there's _is_ no answer?" Anduin summarised, his brow furrowing in a small scowl. "That's… less than satisfying."

Sometimes thinking on the deeper philosophy of the Light made Anduin's head hurt. His obvious consternation seemed to amuse Velen, however, judging from the kind-hearted sparkle in the Prophet's eyes.

"You are the most talented priest of your age I have ever met. Perhaps you be the first to unravel all of the Light's mysteries," he said warmly. "I will, however, leave you with this thought to ponder: the Light is not one thing, or another. It is not this, or that. The Light… _is._ "

For a moment, Anduin wanted to argue, but instead forced himself to consider what the Prophet was reallysaying, as difficult as it was. He stopped trying to _think_ his way through, stopped trying to solve the Light as if it were some kind of riddle or puzzle, and merely allowed its limitless grace to wash over him and fill his heart to bursting. He closed his eyes, and gave himself permission to simply exist, to simply _breathe,_ and he slowly felt his worries ease and his mind begin to clear.

 _The Light_ is.

It was some time before Anduin finally reopened his eyes, to see Velen staring down at him with a sincere, approving smile. He wasn't sure if it was because the Prophet himself was in the room, but he could feel the presence of the Light as clearly and as strongly as he ever had, and for the first time since Duskwood, he was truly calm.

"I'm glad you're here, Velen," he murmured, returning his mentor's smile.

Velen touched his shoulder, and Anduin felt a now familiar frisson of connection and understanding spark between them.

"As always, Anduin," he said kindly, "The pleasure is mine."

* * *

The Prince and the Prophet continued to converse pleasantly for several more hours, until Anduin abruptly realised that he had entirely lost track of time, and that they were _both_ going to be late for the luncheon. Having no desire to disappoint his father with his tardiness on such an important day, he had bid a hasty farewell to Velen, and had hurried off to his chambers to get dressed.

As it was a formal event, Anduin donned one of his more formal tunics, complete with a freshly pressed blue sash and shining gold epaulets. He wasn't especially one to care for the vagaries of fashion, but there was something about wearing a neat and well-cut outfit that gave gave him a certain sense of confidence. Talking with Velen had also done much to improve his mood, and he found himself walking with an eager spring in his step as he quickly made his way out of his rooms and back down through the Keep for the second time that day.

Varian had decided to hold the luncheon outside, to take advantage of the brisk air and unseasonable sunshine that had graced Stormwind over the last week. A number of bright, colourful tents had been set up around the lower pools of Stormwind Lake, just by the waterfalls, with food and drink from all corners of Azeroth to suit every taste. Today's event would welcome leaders and dignitaries from each of the Alliance member states, ahead of a full week of celebration that would finally culminate in the wedding in itself. Anduin knew his father felt rather awkward about receiving gifts and well wishes from his fellow rulers, but Genn had insisted that it was the proper thing to do, and that the Alliance would relish the opportunity to celebrate a royal marriage.

Looking around, Anduin suspected that the Worgen king may have been right. Everywhere he looked he saw people laughing and talking, from tall, graceful draenei to bright and bubbly gnomes. He saw smiles and excitement all around him, and was once again struck by how the entire city felt full to the brim with positive energy. Regardless of culture or allegiance or creed, everyone, it seemed, loved a wedding.

Quite a few people waved as Anduin made his way through the milling crowd, including both Broll and Valeera, and he greeted each of them with a warm smile. He did not pause, however, as he cut a path straight towards the royal tent where he had spied Auriana standing alone, shyly acknowledging each person who stopped to bow before her.

She looked beautiful, Anduin thought, in a floaty dress of lavender silk and delicate rose gold embroidery, with her dark hair fluttering gently in the cool breeze. Even at a distance, however, Anduin could tell she was nervous - and not that he could blame her. Not only was Auriana about to face the entire court of Stormwind, here to get a glimpse of their soon-to-be queen, but all of the most powerful leaders in the Alliance, as well; many of whom she had never met. She had managed to keep her expression calm, at least, if not quite _serene_ ; though he did not miss the way her hands twisted in her skirts with every noble who passed. Unusually, his father was nowhere to be seen, and Anduin hurried over to her side with as much haste as was still dignified for a prince.

"Hello," he whispered, giving her his most encouraging smile. "Picture them naked."

"Hel…" she started distractedly, only for the rest of Anduin's words to catch up with her a second later. "Wait, _what_?"

Auriana lifted her gaze to meet Anduin's, and her nose crinkled thoughtfully as she tried to puzzle out the meaning of his statement.

"Something Bolvar told me once. If you're nervous about appearing in front of a large crowd, picture them naked," he explained, grinning.

A very strange expression crossed Auriana's face, the likes of which Anduin had never seen upon her features, and she bit her lip.

"That... doesn't help."

She shifted her gaze skyward in a vain attempt to compose herself, and Anduin realised she was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Sorry," he said, though in truth he was anything but.

He leaned in closer, resting a hand against the small of her back, and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

"Who are you picturing?"

Auriana's cheeks coloured brilliant crimson, and she shook her head weakly in reply. It was blatantly obvious that she was thinking about _someone_ , however, and Anduin did not intend to let her off the hook that easily.

"Tell me," he prompted, poking her gently in the side with his index finger.

Auriana gave him a withering look, but there was no hiding the small, mischievous spark that had kindled deep within her dark blue eyes.

"Alright. On the condition that if you _ever_ tell anyone else what I'm about to say, I get to light you on fire," she growled.

"Seems fair," Anduin said, shrugging.

Auriana took a deep breath, and looked around to make sure that no one was close enough to hear.

"Um… well… _Malfurion_ ," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the excited chatter of the crowd.

Anduin blinked. He wasn't really sure what he had expected her to say, but it honestly hadn't been _that_.

"Ah… _really?_ Should father be worried?" he asked, struggling to keep a straight face. "Never pictured you with a druid, but the heart wants what it wants, I suppose…"

Auriana shot a furtive look over her shoulder, her lips twisted into a heavy scowl. Anduin followed her line of sight, and finally caught a glimpse of his father conversing with two elite royal guards. While there hadn't been the slightest hint of trouble in weeks, it seemed that Varian still took security very seriously. It was perhaps a good thing that he was absent, however, as Anduin doubted Auriana would have revealed her thoughts to him otherwise, and he was having far too much fun. Talking with Velen had lifted a great weight from his shoulders, and he was now determined to enjoy the week's festivities as fully as possible.

"No, Anduin, it's not… just… _no..._ " Auriana insisted.

" _Sure_ ," he teased playfully.

"No!" she repeated emphatically, clearly horrified that he would _ever_ believe that she could betray his father.

She turned back to face him, and bit her lip.

"I just… it's something I've wondered for a while."

"You… often think about Malfurion naked?" Anduin asked, now thoroughly confused.

He didn't presume to be an authority on Auriana's private desires - and nor did he really _want_ to be - but he would not have guessed that she held a particular attraction to night elves. Especially when considering that his father was about as far from elven as one could get.

"What? _No,_ " she repeated sternly. "Not _often._ I just figured… well, he has those antlers, and the feathers on his arms, and the nightsaber feet… what about about the rest of him?"

"Auri!" Anduin exclaimed, practically choking on the sudden wave of laughter that overtook him. "That's… that's…"

"Awful," she finished sheepishly. "I know, I'm awful."

"I was going to say hilarious," Anduin assured her. "Do you reckon he's a bear under there? Or maybe a wolf?"

At last, Auriana could no longer hold back, and she dissolved into a fit of embarrassed giggles. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to maintain an air of ladylike decorum, but she was too far gone. Her ears and cheeks were now flaming crimson, and Anduin smiled to himself as he watched her fight to regain her composure. The conversation had taken a rather unexpected turn, but as he had hoped, it _had_ served to put Auriana more at ease.

"What are you two chuckling about?"

Anduin suddenly felt a firm hand close over his shoulder, and he turned to see his father staring down at him with a bemused expression.

"Nothing," both Anduin and Auriana said immediately, which of course did nothing to assuage Varian's suspicions.

"Hmm," he growled, pulling uncomfortably at his brocade sleeves. "I'm sure."

Varian was not the kind of man who often took pains with his appearance, but he had made a genuine effort in honour of the coming festivities. Anduin sometimes forgot that his father was still a very handsome man, but it was especially clear on a day like today. Certainly, a number of ladies of the court had noticed, judging from the dozens of admiring glances that came his way, though Varian of course had eyes for one woman.

"Come on," he said, offering Auriana his arm. "It's time."

Auriana's expression sobered slightly as she accepted, but she nevertheless permitted Varian to guide her to her seat. Anduin followed close behind, though he was careful not to stand on the long train of Auriana's dress as they made their way into the shade of the royal tent. Normally, he would have sat on his father's right, but for today he wanted to support Auriana. Instead, he now sat on her other side, so that she was safely ensconced between two generations of Wrynns. Today might be a momentous test for Auriana, but she would not face it alone.

The rest of the crowd followed Varian's lead and began to take their seats, before the herald's horn sounded the arrival of their first official guests. The night elf contingent was the first to make their way down the promenade and around the lake, though whether their prominence was by design or coincidence, Anduin didn't know.

Night elves were a common enough sight around Stormwind these days, but it was another thing entirely to see a group of kaldorei in their full ceremonial dress, bright banners fluttering in the breeze as they made their way into the centre of the clearing ringed by the colourful feasting tents. As a group, they were almost overwhelmingly beautiful, like staring directly into the sun, though Anduin had no desire to look away.

At the head of the procession came Tyrande and Malfurion, each resplendent in the traditional robes of their people. Malfurion towered over his brethren with his gleaming stag's antlers, while Tyrande looked so serene and graceful that she might have been Elune herself made flesh. From afar, it almost looked as if she was floating over the grass, and even as she approached the royal tent, Anduin still wasn't entirely sure that her feet had touched the ground.

"Ishnu-dal-dieb," Tyrande greeted them warmly, her voice at once both ethereal and commanding. "The kaldorei are delighted to have been invited to these joyful celebrations, High King."

Both she and Malfurion inclined their heads respectfully towards Varian, who returned the gesture in kind. Anduin also smiled, though he found his gaze inexorably drawn to the heavy leather belt that secured Malfurion's loincloth.

 _Dammit, Auri_ , he thought. _Now you've got me doing it._

Anduin glanced sideways at Auriana, but she was determinedly staring straight ahead, as if she had read his mind and couldn't bear to look at him for fear of laughing. He nudged her foot beneath the table, but her expression never faltered, save for the tiniest of smirks that pulled at the left corner of her mouth, and a small twitch of her leg as she stomped on his toe with her heel.

Fortunately, Varian did not seem to notice their under-the-table shenanigans; focused as he was on the night elf delegation before him.

"Welcome to Stormwind. We are honoured by your attendance," he said sincerely. "It has been a long time since we have celebrated a royal wedding, and we are grateful to do so in the presence of such steadfast allies - and dare I say, friends."

He spoke well, his voice was deep and commanding, and Anduin was rather ashamed to admit to himself that he had forgotten what an eloquent and masterful ruler his father could be, when he so chose. The full leadership of the Alliance had not been gathered since the trial of Garrosh Hellscream in Pandaria, and yet in a single statement, Varian had reminded them all why he was the High King.

"Most certainly friends," Malfurion agreed, though Anduin did not miss the way his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as his sharp gaze flicked to Auriana.

Night elves were suspicious of magic users in general, given their long and complicated history with the arcane. Malfurion's opinion had been doubly tainted by his experiences with his prodigiously dangerous brother, but Anduin hoped that the elves would not hold Auriana in contempt simply for what she was. Auriana was powerful - as dangerous as Illidan, even - but Anduin also knew that she had a good heart, and as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered.

"We hope you will accept these gifts, along our warmest wishes for a long and happy marriage," Tyrande continued, seemingly unaware of her husband's hesitation. "I can remember my own wedding ceremony as clearly as if it were yesterday. I only hope that your union is similarly blessed."

She glanced lovingly up at Malfurion, and his expression softened slightly as he stared down at his beautiful mate. It was a tender moment between the two ancient elves, and Anduin could practically feel the centuries of love and longing between the two. Tyrande did not allow the moment to linger overlong, however, instead beckoning to a group of four priestesses, who came forth bearing two large amphorae of night elven wine between them. A lithe armoured Sentinel followed, bearing a magnificent hunting bow that she laid before Varian. The wooden weapon had been hand carved, and inlaid with the finest truesilver. As king, Varian did not often get a chance to get out of the Keep, but Anduin knew that he loved to hunt, and that the perfectly crafted weapon would be very much appreciated.

A fifth priestess came forward with a gift for Auriana; a gauzy, silvery-white dress that looked as if it had been sewn with moonlight itself. Many ladies in the crowd whispered excitedly at its beauty, and even Varian looked suitably impressed - though perhaps for a different reason. Auriana, however, looked rather amazed that she had been so considered, though she quickly covered her surprise with a warm smile and a sincere thank you.

As Tyrande, Malfurion, and the rest of the elves were guided away to take their seats, a second group of Keep servants came to carefully remove and store the heartfelt gifts in a purpose made tent at the back of the clearing. There was little time to rest, however, as a bright note trumpeted from the herald's horn announced the arrival of the second group of delegates.

Perhaps it was appropriate that the worgen contingent followed soon after the elves, given that many of them had found a home in the worgen enclave in Darnassus. While Varian may not have been the kind of king who cared much for his appearance, Genn Greymane certainly was. The Gilneans were a proud people, and none more so than their king. Genn looked resplendent in a coat of rich burgundy and gold trim as he marched at the head of his people, with his wife and daughter at his side. He was smiling, magnanimous, and he looked every inch the proud scion of the Alliance as he rounded the lake and came up before the royal tent.

Such had not always been the case. Anduin remembered all too well the last time the worgen had been presented to the Alliance in such a fashion. In a word, it had been a disaster, with Varian very publicly and rather rudely decrying Genn and his people as cowards. This time however, Genn approached as a friend, clasping Varian warmly by the forearm, before kissing a brilliantly blushing Auriana on the cheek.

"Varian!" he boomed grandly, his voice carrying far and wide through the clearing. "Gilneas has stood proudly alongside Stormwind in times of war, and we are equally proud to do so during such a time of joy and peace. And I think I speak on behalf of the entire Alliance when I say… about bloody time!"

The crowd burst out laughing, and even Varian looked amused; accepting Genn's good-natured teasing with a smirk and a wry tilt of his head. Genn winked at Auriana, who looked as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or disappear beneath the table. She was soon distracted, however, as Genn waved his hands with an extravagant flourish and beckoned forth a group of servants in resplendent Gilnean livery.

The King of Gilneas had clearly spared no expense for the occasion, and presented Varian and Auriana with a veritable mountain of wedding presents. It seemed to Anduin as if Genn had gifted them an entire household, everything from silverware to lush furs - and all carefully crafted to the precise specifications of the finest Gilnean craftsmen, of course. Pride of place was given to a magnificent drinking horn made of bone and inlaid mithril, that had been designed for Varian by Genn himself, and presented alongside a barrel of the finest aged Gilnean scotch.

Anduin knew here was always a political undercurrent to these sorts of events, but Genn was less subtle than most. In proclaiming his support for Varian so generously, he was reaffirming his people's place in the Alliance, whilst at the same time providing a tangible demonstration of Gilnean prosperity in the time since the Cataclysm. Anduin didn't blame him for being proud of how far his people had come, of course, but he did wonder if some of the other leaders might find his display excessive.

He had little time to reflect on the complex internal politics of the Alliance, however, as the worgen moved away to make way for the representatives of the Kirin Tor. While the mages of Dalaran were not official members of the Alliance, they had not been a neutral entity ever since the incident with the Divine Bell and the Purge. It was also well known that Jaina and Varian were close friends and longtime allies, and in this case, she would actually be standing alongside Auriana at the wedding as a bridesmaid.

Today, Jaina had eschewed a dress in favour of a set of neatly pressed Kirin Tor robes, though she looked as lovely and radiant as if she were wearing a ballgown. She was flanked on either side by Khadgar, looking surprisingly dapper in his own set of formal robes; and Kalecgos in his half-elf form, who stared at the festival all around himself with an eager air of curiosity and delight.

"Varian," Jaina began warmly, "And Auriana. Please accept the felicitations of the both the Council of Six and the Kirin Tor - as well as my own personal congratulations."

"Quite right," Khadgar added, beaming down at Auriana like a proud father. "It is a historical occasion, indeed."

"I'm afraid I have not brought our gift with me today," Jaina continued smoothly, her eyes sparkling with kindness and real affection, "Though I hope you will forgive me once you see the surprise we have in store for your wedding night."

"A surprise? What kind of surprise?" Varian asked, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as if he wasn't quite sure if she were teasing him.

"Patience, my dear King," Jaina admonished him gently. "You'll see soon enough. Though I believe Kalec wished to present you with a token on behalf of his flight."

At her words, Kalec stepped forward, and bowed respectfully before Varian and Auriana. At first, it seemed as if he had come empty handed, but with a sudden twist of his wrists and a flash of light, an enormous blue gem appeared out of thin air.

"A mana gem!" Auriana exclaimed, recognising the object immediately. "Oh, Kalec, you shouldn't have…"

"From the Nexus vault itself. A traditional gift amongst dragons when one takes on a new consort," the former Aspect explained, smiling down at her as he pressed it carefully into her hands.

Auriana and Kalec may have called it a mere mana gem, but to Anduin it seemed that she had been presented with a pure sapphire as large as his head. It was beautifully and expertly cut, and a thousand different facets sparkled in the sunlight as Auriana turned it over in her fingers. Anduin couldn't even begin to estimate its value, and he was clearly not the only one who had noticed, either, judging from the excited muttering that had broken out across the crowd.

Unfortunately, Kalec seemed to have taken their excited whispers as a sign that he had done something wrong, or had given a gift that was insufficient for the occasion at hand.

"I wasn't sure if it was appropriate for human royalty, but it _is_ a traditional gift…" he said uncertainly, his dark blue brows drawing together worriedly.

"It's wonderful," Auriana assured him quickly. "Thank you."

"I agree," Varian confirmed. "I won't pretend that I understand the full significance of such a gift, but I am sure Auriana will correct my ignorance soon enough. You have honoured us, Kalecgos, and you have my thanks."

Kalec's concerned expression quickly faded into a relieved smile, and inclined his head in acknowledgement as Jaina stepped forward to take his arm and lead him away. Khadgar followed soon after his fellow mages, though he made a quick detour to the very front of the royal table to press and affectionate kiss to Auriana's forehead. It was clear to Anduin that he wished to speak to her further, but such things would have to wait until after the formal part of the day was concluded.

Khadgar's discretion proved fortuitous, for no sooner had the Kirin Tor mages taken their seats than a sudden flurry of war drums announced the arrival of the dwarves, lead by the triumvirate of Moira Thaurissan, Muradin Bronzebeard, and Falstad Wildhammer. Both dwarven men were magnificent in their heavy, shining armour, while Moira was the picture of dwarven femininity in a flowing white dress with golden ribbons braided through her fiery hair.

"On behalf o' the Council o' Three Hammers, please accept our gracious thanks for your invitation, High King. Ironforge is delighted ta welcome a new Queen o' Stormwind," she said gracefully.

"It's good to see you again, Moira," Varian said warmly, though Anduin found it somewhat hard to forget that he had once tried to strangle her to death during her coup of Ironforge.

Still, Moira herself appeared content to let bygones be bygones, and she smiled beatifically up at Varian as he continued his welcome. She may have been a petty and headstrong girl not all that long ago, but it seemed to Anduin as if she blossomed further into her role a fair and diplomatic ruler of her people every time they met.

"And you, Muradin, and Falstad," Varian added. "Stormwind is grateful for the continued support of the Council, and that of the dwarven people."

"As we are grateful for yer allyship, King Varian," Moira said. "Please accept these gifts as a token of our appreciation and friendship."

The three dwarves had come bearing three gifts of their own, each in some way representative of the history and culture of their respective clan. The Bronzebeards had forged for Varian a magnificent full barding for his warhorse, and for Auriana a fine set of daggers that were so exquisitely slender that they could easily be hidden in one's boot, or concealed in the fabric of a billowing sleeve. Evidently, word of the attempts on Auriana's life had got around, and the Bronzebeards were nothing if not a practical people.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, the Wildhammers had brought four gryphon eggs, each borne of one of their finest breeding pairs. The eggs themselves were a beautiful cream colour, dotted with pale blue spots, and Anduin had no doubts that the gryphons they would soon hatch would make a fine addition to Stormwind's aerie of warbirds. Both clans had also brought with them copious amounts of beer, so much so that Amduim couldn't help but wonder if there were any left in the entire city of Ironforge.

The last dwarven gift, however, Anduin could not place. It was Moira herself who came forward, as representative of the Dark Irons, with what looked at to be a large, smouldering rock. A thousand different shades of red and orange danced across its surface, and Anduin could not understand how it wasn't burning Moira's hands. She did not flinch, however, as she laid the gift not before Varian, but rather Auriana.

"An elemental heart," she said proudly. "From within the depths o' Ironforge herself."

Anduin wasn't sure what the stone itself did, but it seemed Auriana knew better than he. Her eyes widened, and she reached out to run reaching out to run her shaking fingers across the rapidly shifting surface of the stone. It flickered even brighter beneath her touch, and Anduin felt a sudden burst of warmth rush across his bare skin.

"Moira…" she gasped. "They're so rare, how did you even find one?"

"Our elementalists are very skilled," Moira said proudly.

"I can feel its power, it's extraordinary. I… I can't possibly accept..."

"Aye, but you can," Moira said knowingly. "A gift ta remind ye of the strength and fire that beats in yer own heart, my Lady… and in the hearts of yer allies."

Much like Genn, Moira had clearly decided to use today's event as an opportunity to make a political statement. The acceptance of the Dark Irons in Ironforge had been an uneasy proposition at best, and even now, they still held themselves apart from their brethren with a subtle hesitance. To give Auriana a gift of such rarity and power not only demonstrated great generosity, but also their worth. On a more personal note, Moira herself had also suffered a great deal of discrimination from her own father, and it was clear that she wished to show support for Auriana's inclusion as another strong female voice with in the Alliance.

"Thank you," Auriana said sincerely, still looking stunned. "I promise you, I will put this to good use."

Moira nodded her approval, and smiled briefly at Varian and Anduin, before she and the rest of the dwarves made their way off towards their table.

"Something special?" Varian asked, leaning over Auriana to watch as she handed the relic off to one of her attendants.

"Very much so," she confirmed. "I've never seen one so flawless. It could be used to do extraordinary magic."

"Hmph. Just like you," Varian murmured.

Anduin raised an eyebrow at his father's uncharacteristic suavity, and in truth, Varian looked rather pleased with himself. For her part, Auriana simply rolled her eyes in amusement, though even the large goblet of water that she lifted to her lips could not hide her smile. At last, however, she seemed to be slowly relaxing into the festive atmosphere, encouraged by the positive attentions of Stormwind's allies, and Anduin could only hope that the trend would continue.

The delegation of gnomes were next to arrive, in a burst of noise and metal and colour. They were all mounted on clanking mechanostriders, each of which had been painted Alliance blue and gold in honour the of the celebrations. They were certainly the _loudest_ of all the representatives so far, and the crowd applauded delightedly as they performed a complex series of fast-paced loops and turns.

Eventually, the gnomes ceased their intricate display and manoeuvred their mechanostriders into three neat lines, with High Tinker Mekkatorque standing front and centre. He did not dismount his technological steed, however, instead using it as a makeshift platform from which to address the crowd.

"My warmest greetings, High King!" he said brightly. "My people and I are delighted to visit Stormwind once again - and to be here on such a happy occasion, at that!"

He gave Auriana merry wink, and gestured excitedly to the skies above.

"You may not know this, but we gnomes love a wedding - and what better way than to celebrate your upcoming nuptials than with your very own gyrocopter!"

"He can't be serious…" Anduin breathed, mostly to himself. "Can he?"

As it turned out, however, Mekkatorque was completely serious. A low, buzzing mechanical noise sounded from somewhere nearby, and a second later, a brightly coloured flying machine erupted from the treeline to fly circles over the excitable crowd.

"Perfect for a romantic flight over the city, ey?" Mekkatorque prompted, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as his pilot made another pass.

The machine had been drastically sized up from a standard gnomish gyrocopter, though Anduin suspected that his father would still have to compact himself considerably if he were to fit in either one of the copter's two seats. The sides had been painted with bright red and gold hearts, while the interior of the vehicle had been done in soft pink leather. Two glass vials of some fabulously bubbly blue liquid were strapped to each side of the fuselage, though whether they contained alcohol or rocket fuel - or _both_ \- Anduin couldn't tell.

He snuck a sidelong look at Varian and Auriana, who both looked simply dumbfounded by the gnomish king's choice of gift. Mekkatorque had apparently taken their stunned silence as approval, however, and he continued his showy presentation unabated.

"And that's not all! You are well known for your distinctive armour, King Varian!" he said excitedly, waving the gyrocopter pilot off so that he could be properly heard. "However - there is nothing in this world so well made that it cannot be improved by a little gnomish tinkering!"

He grinned broadly, and it suddenly seemed as if the entirety of his small face were consumed by the width of his smile.

"Your Majesty, please allow me to present - made specially just for you - a set of megawatt, bi-directional, plasma-fused, shoulder mounted rocket launchers!"

Three gnomes dismounted their mechanostrider, and came forward to reveal a strange metal harness of sorts, with a collection of cluster rockets mounted on each side of a heavy back brace. It had clearly been sized for a human, and a large human, at that, and Anduin realised that Mekkatorque intended for Varian to wear it over his already sizeable pauldrons. Privately, he felt as if his father were already quite deadly enough without additional weaponising, but Mekkatorque seemed to think the idea was absolutely ingenious.

"Allow me to demonstrate," the High Tinker said grandly.

He gestured to his gnomish brethren, who immediately rearranged themselves to stand abreast with their small arms linked. At the same time, four other gnomes moved to lift the harness onto their backs, positioning it so it sat as if it were resting on a single set of shoulders.

For a moment, it looked as if the gnomes intended to fire rockets into the royal tent, but after a bit of careful shuffling, they turned around to face out towards the waterfall. A hush fell over the crowd, and Anduin found himself leaning forward in anticipation as a fourth gnome came forward to trigger the ignition switch.

There was was a burst of smoke from the back of the harness, but instead of a single projectile firing off towards the lake, every single rocket caught fire and began to burn. The force of their ignition was actually enough to create _lift_ , and suddenly the three gnomes found themselves struggling to remain earthbound. In a panic, they flung the rocket harness upwards, sending it flying high into the air out over the lake, where it whizzed wildly around in a dizzying series of increasingly tight circles...

And exploded.

Not a few people screamed as rockets flew wildly in all directions, and a good deal more dived beneath the tables. Auriana, however, was the quickest to react, blinking straight _through_ the feast table so that she reappeared next to Mekkatorque on the other side. She threw right her arm in a wide arc, sending a shower of icicles out from her hand. Her aim was unerringly good, and each caught a rocket in mid air, freezing them solid before they could explode. At least half a dozen smashed into the rocks at the base of the waterfalls, while the remainder tumbled harmlessly into the grass.

Despite Auriana's impressive heroics, it was some time before people dared to peek out from behind chairs and tables. Once it was clear that the danger had passed, however, a wave of impolite sniggering rippled across the crowd, and Mekkatorque's face fell. Anduin frowned, but it was once again Auriana who was the first to respond. She picked up the mangled remains of the rocket harness from where it had fallen, and carried it back over to Mekkatorque and the gnomish delegation.

"Thank you, Gelbin," she said kindly, speaking loudly enough that her voice carried across the entire clearing. "Stormwind is forever grateful for the loyalty and ingenuity of the gnomish people."

Auriana visibly took a deep breath, and glanced over her shoulder at the tittering nobles with as much imperious command as she could muster. As it turned out, however, her years of work in the military had apparently given her the ability to summon a rather impressive aura of command, and the crowd instantly fell silent.

"Perhaps it just needs a little more fine tuning," she added, turning back to give Mekkatorque a shy kiss on the cheek.

The High Tinker blushed furiously, and for a moment was so flustered that he bumped the controls of his mechanostrider and sent it jerking forward a pace.

"Ah… o-of course, my lady," he stammered, touching his cheek where she had kissed him.

"Yes," Varian agreed, quickly following Auriana's tactful lead. "Certainly no one could argue with its… ah... potency."

Luckily, her quick thinking seemed to have done the trick, and both Mekkatorque and his gnomish fellows looked mollified as they clanked away to their tent. Auriana kept her head high and her expression cool the entire time, though Anduin suspected that she had been rather anxious about her impromptu foray into the world of diplomacy. Still, her kind words had diffused the situation rather handily, and Anduin was proud - as was Varian.

"Well done," he murmured, as Auriana quickly resumed her seat.

Outwardly, the King of Stormwind did not move or even turn his head, but beneath the table, Anduin saw him reach for Auriana's hand to give it an encouraging squeeze, as they awaited the arrival of the second-to-last group of Alliance representatives.

As it turned out, the Tushui pandaren were next to arrive, lead by a bright-eyed Aysa Cloudsinger. Anduin had spent a great deal of time in Pandaria, and he had come to love the colour and energy of their many rituals and festivals. He was pleased to see that that same energy was out in full force today, as the pandaren delegation came forth in their traditional robes of red and green and gold, accompanied by two gilded carts and a group of musicians. One particularly large male pandaren at the back of the group was even carrying a gong, and he beat a steady rhythm beneath the bright, clarion laughter of bamboo flutes as Aysa led her people to bow before Varian and Auriana.

"Greetings from Pandaria!" she said brightly, her soft white fur gleaming beautifully in the sun. "We are honoured to stand alongside our allies in the Alliance on this day."

The music faded out at some unseen signal, and the group of Pandaren pushed one silk-covered cart forward. Aysa smiled broadly, and pulled away the silk cover to reveal a towering statue of each of the four August Celestials entwined about a gorgeous golden tree that looked as if it had been plucked from the Vale of Eternal Blossoms itself.

The statue was huge, at least as as wide as Auriana was tall, and while Anduin was certainly no expert in statuary, he could see the incredible detail that had been worked into the stone. Each of the Celestials looked exactly as he remembered them in life, from the shimmer of Chi-Ji's wings, to the immaculate overlap of Yu'lon's delicate scales.

"At a Pandaren wedding, it is traditional to present the couple with a statue of the August Celestials for their home shrine," Aysa explained. "Each Celestial embodies an aspiration for your marriage."

She reached out, and gently tapped each magnificent carving in turn.

"Chi-Ji for joy, Niuzao for longevity, Xuen for passion… and Yu'lon, for fertility."

"The craftsmanship is extraordinary," Varian observed. "Thank you."

Auriana, however, did not seem quite as impressed by the gift as Varian. She had gone a very strange colour at Aysa's last words; her cheeks burning brilliant red in stark contrast to the sudden pallor of her surrounding skin. Anduin glanced at his father, confused, but Varian seemed equally perplexed by her reaction. Fortunately, the Pandaren dignitaries did not seem to notice, as Aysa went on to explain the hours of time and effort that had gone into the creation of the statue in great detail.

"Are you alright?" Anduin whispered, nuding Auriana's leg with his.

"I'm fine," she replied, shaking herself ever so slightly. "I promise. That's just… a lot of statue to live up to..."

Anduin found her response rather cryptic, but before he could question her further, Aysa brought forth the second cart, and gestured to its hidden contents.

"It is also traditional to celebrate a wedding with a fine brew. We have been told that you favour apple cider, High King, and we gathered the best brewers from across Pandaria to create a unique press just for you," she smiled, removing the second silk cover with a satisfied flourish.

In the back of the cart rested a dozen enormous Pandaren kegs, enough to keep Varian in cider for at least a year. Pandaren typically marked their kegs with maker's marks, to denote the brewery from which the alcohol had come. A maker's mark might consist of a paw stamp, or perhaps an icon of a local animal, or one of the Celestials, but in this case, the kegs had been imprinted with what seemed to Anduin to be a stylized version of a human head. The figure had a mountain of unruly dark hair, and two dark slashes across its face - one vertical, one horizontal - and Anduin bit back a chuckle as he realised he was looking at a lopsided version of his father.

Auriana, too, had noticed, judging from the sudden sparkle in her eyes as she watched the two Pandaren carts as they were drawn away. Her strange bout of consternation had seemingly vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and as the Pandaren delegation filed off into their seats, she leaned over to Anduin, and gestured to the growing pile of gifts. Every Alliance emissary had thus far brought _some_ kind of alcohol as a gift; as if a good stiff drink was the one thing that bound each separate Alliance state together.

"I'm sensing a theme," she whispered. "Exactly how much do people think we drink?"

"Father is a big man, I suppose," Anduin theorised.

"And I'm a very small woman. I think there's enough here to kill me a hundred times over..." Auriana snorted, though she did not seem displeased.

Anduin grinned down at her, and leaned back in his seat as he watched the very last group of dignitaries make their way down the path. The draenei contingent were not as outwardly flashy as some of their earlier predecessors, but they nevertheless set off a burst of excited muttering as they approached. As the fabled draenei Prophet, Velen alone was a rare enough sight in Stormwind to command a great deal of attention, and at the head of a group of his finest priests and paladins in their best armour, he was an impressive sight indeed.

"King Varian," Velen said warmly, inclining his head respectfully as he approached. "And Lady Auriana. Please accept the best wishes of my people for your upcoming union… and my personal blessings, as well."

He reached into his robes, and withdrew a slender, metallic item that Anduin could not immediately identify.

"I will admit, I was not sure what kind of gift to bring to a human wedding, much less a royal one," the Prophet said quietly. "I hope this will suffice."

Anduin leaned forward in anticipation as Velen held out his gift towards his gift towards Varian, and he gasped as he realised what it was.

"Father," he whispered excitedly, leaning over Auriana to prod Varian in the arm. "That's a draenic prayer chime."

It was not an ostentatious gift, but it was undoubtedly very powerful - and very personal. Anduin could now see the runes of power etched carefully along each surface of the cool metal, and he could _feel_ the layers of protective spellwork radiating out from the chime.

"I carved and blessed this charm myself," Velen explained. "So long as it hangs over your marriage bed, the life and love you share with your beautiful mate will be protected."

He bowed his head before Auriana, who blushed and nodded her sincere thanks for the compliment.

"We are honoured by this gift from the Prophet's own hand," Varian added solemnly, "Though I think you ought to present it to my son for inspection, before he falls out of his chair with excitement."

A ripple of laughter echoed through the crowd at his words, and Anduin at least had the good grace to flush. He did not complain, however, as Velen stepped forward and pressed the precious chime into his hands with a knowing smile. Anduin sat the prayer chime on his lap, his fingers itching with eagerness, though he would not be so rude as to begin an exhaustive study in the middle of his father's feast.

"I'll be wanting that back, you know," Varian murmured, so that only Anduin could hear.

"Of course," Anduin replied smoothly. "You need all the help you can get."

Varian's sharp blue gaze flicked to Auriana, and he let out a wry snort of amusement.

"You might be right about that…"

He offered his hand to Auriana with a surprisingly courtly flourish, and drew her to her feet as the last of the draenei took their seats. Anduin had met many powerful people in his life, but never one who commanded a space quite as well as his father. It wasn't just that Varian was a big man, but rather that he had an incredible _presence_ that could not be ignored, and he did not have to say a word to to draw the undivided attention of every single person present.

"Stormwind is grateful for the kindness and generosity shown by her allies today. More personally, Auriana and I are both proud and honoured to stand before friends," Varian began, taking the time to meet the eyes of each one of his fellow leaders in turn.

As he spoke, he slipped his left hand around Auriana's waist, and drew her in close against the side of his body. Varian was not generally one for public displays of affection, but in this case, it was clear that he intended to send a message - that Auriana was _his_ , and he hers… and that he was _happy_. It was a subtle gesture, and not at all effusive, but for a man so notoriously taciturn and lonely as Varian, the message was as clear as if he had shouted it from the top of Stormwind Keep.

Most surprising, however, was the fact that Auriana responded to Varian in kind, by placing a small hand on his chest and staring out over the assembled crowd with almost as much regal confidence as the King of Stormwind himself. Up close, Anduin could see the slight tremble in her fingers, but she nevertheless looked every inch the queen as she finally embraced her place at his father's side. He smiled.

"Those who know me also know that I'm not an especially verbose man, even at the best of times," Varian continued, his dry, self-deprecating humour sending a wave of laughter echoing across the crowd. "So I will say only this - the hospitality of our city is yours. Please eat and drink your fill… and if you share in even a tenth of our joy, I know this week will be a memorable one indeed."

Varian finished his speech with a gruff nod of appreciation, and he and Auriana once again took their seats. The crowd clapped and cheered excitedly in response, but Varian was not quite done yet.

"Our friends and allies are more generous than I could have imagined," he added quietly, so that only Anduin and Auriana could hear. "I don't wish to appear ungrateful or rude, but this is more than we could ever need. We will keep these gifts, of course, as a sign of respect to our allies, but I will donate their equivalent values to Stormwind's poorhouses and orphanages. As well as the excess food and drink from the feasts this week."

He kissed Auriana on the cheek and turned to his wine as if he had said nothing remarkable, but Anduin had scarcely been more proud. Today, his father had been the kind of magnanimous and gracious ruler that Anduin had always known he could be, and _that_ , he thought, was definitely something worth celebrating.


	5. Chapter Five

**A very sincere thank you to everyone who left a comment or messaged me about the last chapter and my doubts about my writing. I was absolutely blown away by the level of support this story received, and it made no small difference in bolstering my confidence and encouraging me to continue. It means the world.**

 **Varian**

The rest of the week disappeared in a blur of feasts and tours and other diplomatic events; each coming one after the other and so fast that Varian barely had time to catch his breath. He had been through all of this once before, of course, but it appeared his memory had done him the kindness of blanking most of it out. Worst of all, he had barely had the chance to spend any time alone with Auriana, which struck him as somewhat ironic given that she was the reason for all the excitement and fuss in the first place.

As the morning before the wedding dawned, however, Varian was finally presented with an activity that he actually might enjoy. Today, he would lead his friends and family and a number of members of the Stormwind Court in a traditional hunt, to capture a prize stag that would be served at his wedding feast the following evening. He had also invited his fellow Alliance leaders, and as he made his way down through the city and out towards the staging grounds just outside the city gates, he was pleased to see many familiar faces milling about the horses.

Admittedly, some of those faces surprised him more than others. While Varian had warmly and sincerely extended his invitation to the other men of the Alliance, he knew that not all of them shared his passion for hunting, and he would not have been offended in the slightest if anyone had refused. Still, it seemed that the bonds of friendship and comradeship held tighter than Varian had expected, and that not a single person had refused his summons.

Genn and Broll were there, of course, neither one the kind to turn down the opportunity for a good hunt, as well as Malfurion and the two dwarven thanes. A little ways away, Gelbin Mekkatorque was chatting animatedly to a young stable lad, who was trying and largely failing to mount the King of Gnomes on a less-than-impressed pony. Much to Varian's satisfaction, Anduin had also come, and he beamed brightly in greeting as Varian made his way through the assembled crowd of hunters, servants, and hangers on.

Somewhat unexpectedly, however, Anduin was accompanied by the Prophet Velen, who had traded his signature robes for a set of draenic hunting clothes. He bore a finely crafted bow upon his back, and had even gone so far as to have his prodigious beard bound and braided in a most practical fashion. In short, he looked entirely unlike himself, and Varian had to do a double take before he recognised the stately Prophet for who he was.

Around a dozen noblemen were also in attendance for the King's hunt, but Varian was not here for them. He had been feeling increasingly restless all week, and had eagerly anticipated the opportunity to burn off some steam. It wasn't just that he felt stifled by the seemingly endless demands on his time, or even that he was nervous. He had been a king almost all his life, and despite what some people may have thought, he knew how to comport himself properly when the situation so demanded. That said, he could no longer ignore the feeling of intense pressure that had been building in his chest for days, though he was damned if he could explain what it was.

Varian forced such thoughts to the back of his mind as he made his way over to his waiting gelding, held in place by one of the Keep's best young stable hands. The boy was grinning broadly, clearly thrilled to have saddled a horse for the King of Stormwind himself, and he fidgeted anxiously as Varian looked the beast over. Fortunately, the hand had done an excellent job, and Varian offered him a gruff but sincere nod of approval as he stowed his bow and began to adjust the saddle for his height.

Varian had just finished tightening the horse's girth when a flash of brightly coloured skirts suddenly caught his eye, and he realised that Auriana had come to see them off. He was glad to see her, naturally, but he had been under the impression that she was meant to be spending the morning in a final fitting for her dress. Concerned, Varian immediately stepped away from his horse, and subtly indicated for her to join him away from the main group so they could speak in relative privacy.

They met beneath the shade of a nearby oak, well out of earshot of the others. Auriana looked beautiful, Varian thought, wearing a dress of his favourite sapphire blue, though he couldn't help but notice the tight set of her jaw and the slight frown that creased her forehead.

"Auriana? I wasn't expecting to see you here, is something wrong?" he asked quietly, resting a broad palm on the small of her back.

"No, nothing's wrong, I just…"

She sighed, and looked down at her feet.

"I'm sorry. It's stupid."

"Auri…" Varian said patiently, "Talk to me. What's bothering you?"

Auriana glanced up at him between long lashes, and took a deep breath as she struggled to find the right words.

"We're getting married tomorrow…" she started.

"Yes, I am aware," Varian snorted. "I was rather looking forward to it, actually."

He grinned wolfishly down at her, but grew concerned when she did not return his smile. Moreover, she would barely even look him in the eye, and his once-mild concern suddenly multiplied tenfold.

"Wait. You aren't… having second thoughts, are you?" he whispered hoarsely, feeling lightheaded as he imagined having come so far, only for her to refuse him.

The blood drained from Auriana's face as she realised how her words must have sounded, and she quickly shook her head.

" _No_!" she insisted fiercely. "No, of course not."

"Then what?"

"I-I keep… waiting for something to go wrong," she confessed. "And the closer we come, the worse it gets… My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest, sometimes, and when you're out of my sight, it's so much worse."

She let out a short, sharp sigh of agitation, and fiddled anxiously with her skirts as she continued.

"Like today… I can't help thinking that you're going to have some kind of terrible accident; that's why I came down here. Every moment, it feels like I'm waiting for some of those damned assassins to show up, or some nightmarish creature to slither its way out from under our bed… hell, knowing my luck, the whole damn Burning Legion is going to decide to invade right in the middle of our vows..."

Varian pressed a rough, calloused thumb against Auriana's lips to stop her anxious rambling; hating to see her so distressed. He was acutely aware that this was the most they'd really been able to talk all week, and he intended to use the opportunity to ease her worries as much as he could.

"Hush," he murmured, cupping her cheeks reverentially between his palms. "I would never let that happen."

"I don't think they'd give you much of a choice…"

Auriana looked up at him then, her lovely blue eyes dark with real fear. Varian supposed her concern was only natural, given that they had both led rather _eventful_ lives, but he would be damned if he would let anything come between them now. He stood up to his full height, towering over her, and squared the powerful muscles of his shoulders and back as if spoiling for a fight.

"Bah," he grunted forcefully. "I am Varian Wrynn. There is not a force in this universe that will keep me from taking you as my bride."

There was no false bravado in his declaration, only the absolute truth, and his unshakeable confidence was enough to finally draw a small smile from Auriana's lips. She _wanted_ to believe him, he could tell, though she still remained somewhat hesitant.

"I'll be fine. I promise," Varian insisted, taking her by the shoulders to emphasise his point. "It's just a hunt. This is how men in Stormwind have celebrated impending marriages for generations."

He gave her his best reassuring smile, and tucked a tendril of dark hair back behind her ear.

"Beside which, I have some of the most powerful warriors and sorcerers in Azeroth watching out for me. Surely you trust Broll? And Kalec, and Velen?"

"They're not me," Auriana mumbled.

"Well, no one's as good as you. But in the interests of diplomacy… let's just keep that between us, hmm?" Varian suggested.

That, at least, made her laugh, and she looked him properly in the eye for the first time since they had started talking. She shook herself slightly, as if clearing the memory of a bad dream, and offered him a genuine, if rather effortful, smile.

"Alright then," she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she forced herself to relax. "So... _you_ get a day out drinking and hunting and frolicking in the woods with your friends, and I'm supposed to do what, exactly?"

"First of all, Wrynns don't _frolic_ ," Varian grumbled, scowling down at her with mock sternness, "And second of all… well, ah… I believe _you_ are supposed to take a vigil in the Cathedral, to reflect under the Light about your new role as my virtuous wife."

It _was_ a real tradition, if a rather dated one, though he had suggested it more to provoke a reaction from Auriana, than because he actually thought she should do so. What he really wanted was to distract her from her fears and help her to remain calm, and if he had to tease and prod her a little to achieve his aim, well, so be it.

"Oh, I think we both know _that's_ about as likely to happen as Gelbin over there growing five feet and sprouting wings," she huffed, putting her hands firmly on her hips.

"Ah, but you forget - we live on Azeroth. Stranger things _have_ actually happened," Varian said lightly, struggling to maintain an air of seriousness in the face of Auriana's endearing indignation.

He must not have done a good job of being convincing, however, judging from the look of sly skepticism that flicked across her face.

"I know what you're doing…" she told him drily, tilting her head to one side.

"Is it working?" he asked hopefully.

Auriana chuckled, and ran a rueful hand through the lengths of her dark hair.

"Yes," she admitted. "Just don't go falling off your horse and breaking your neck or something. I'd be very vexed with you."

"I've never fallen off a horse in my life! And I would certainly never do anything to risk _your_ ire. I'd be far too scared to do so," Varian teased gently.

"You - Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, High King of the Alliance, _Lo'Gosh_ \- are afraid of little old me?" Auriana snorted.

She bit her lower lip, her expression wide-eyed and innocent, and Varian was suddenly very eager for a little _more_ privacy. He quickly pulled her further behind the trunk of the great oak, and brushed his lips up against her ear.

"Terrified," he whispered.

Auriana's eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if not quite sure whether he were still teasing or not, and she poked him firmly in the chest with a pale, slender finger.

"You know I'm not above waking you up in the mornings by freezing your toes, right?" she said flatly.

"Is that so?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"Call me 'terrifying' again and you'll find out," she murmured.

Varian lowered his head to whisper a witty retort, when their quiet interlude was interrupted by the sudden, triumphant bellow of a dragon somewhere overheard. Overtaken by instinct, Varian pulled Auriana tight against him, shielding her with his body, only to relax a few seconds later as he recognised the distinctive flash of azure scales that could only be Kalecgos.

The enormous blue made a few playful loops over the Valley of Heroes, scaring an entire flock of birds into the air, before he landed on the grass nearby and smoothly shifted back into a humanoid. A number of the horses whinnied and tossed their heads in alarm, though they calmed down considerably upon realising that Kalec was rather less likely to eat them in his current form.

"Speaking of terrified…" Varian sighed. "You know, between the all talking and laughter and the _actual dragon_ , there's not going to be a single game animal in the forest who hasn't been frightened away."

Now confident there was no danger, he stepped back, though his hands lingered gently on Auriana's waist. As much as he was here for her comfort, he had also come to understand that the strange tightness in his chest only lessened when she was about, and he wasn't willing to let her go quite yet.

"I don't think the deer are quite the point, Varian," she said drily. "You said it yourself. It's about celebrating with friends and family."

She gestured to the excited group of hunters readying their horses, each smiling broadly or wrapped up in animated conversation. Even normally quiet or stoic people like Velen seemed to be in high spirits, and Varian _was_ admittedly pleased to see the each of the varied leaders and heroes of the Alliance getting along so well.

"Very true," he conceded, "Though according to the tradition, if I fail to bring back a deer for our wedding feast, I'm not fit to marry you. Something about… being a good provider. So I have something of a vested interest in being successful."

Auriana glanced significantly up towards where Stormwind Keep towered over the city skyline, and raised her eyebrows.

"You're a king. I think you'll manage to 'provide' for me just fine," she snorted. "And if you can't… well... I'll just conjure us some mana buns."

"Mana buns hardly constitute a feast," Varian pointed out.

"How would you know?" she said archly. "You've never tasted my mana buns."

Varian smirked to himself at her turn of phrase, and took advantage of the shelter of the tree to slide his eager hands further down her body and pin her roughly between his body and the hardness of the thick oak trunk. As expected, she gasped and flushed beneath his touch, and immediately looked around to see if their intimate moment had been witnessed.

"Hmph. I'm fairly sure _that's_ not true," he growled heatedly, biting back a devilish grin as he nuzzled the soft skin of her neck.

He wasn't sure whether it were possible for Auriana to colour anymore than she already had, but somehow the rosy red of her cheeks deepened and spread, all the way up to the very tips of her ears. Still, she did not pull away, and even permitted Varian to capture her lips for a slow and passionate kiss.

"In all seriousness, though," he added, as he reluctantly came up for air, "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own today? I would stay, if you asked."

Varian had been immensely proud of Auriana's conduct over the last week, but he was not so blind that he could not see that she was somewhat overwhelmed. Of course, she would never dream of complaining or expressing such worries aloud, and so Varian had taken it upon himself to ensure that she felt as supported as possible.

"Of course," she said quickly, giving him a small and not entirely reassuring smile. "I'm used to being alone."

"Not anymore," he countered firmly, tightening his hands on her waist to emphasise his point.

"You're not wrong about that," she agreed, glancing somewhat anxiously around the trunk of the tree and back towards the assembled hunters.

Varian frowned.

"Just one more day," he promised. "Then this will all die down and I'll whisk you away and have you all to myself."

As much as Varian eagerly awaited the opportunity to exchange vows with Auriana, he was even more excited to take her away from Stormwind for a few days of much need privacy. He hadn't taken a proper break from his duties in more or less _forever_ , much less taken the time to simply be a man alone with the woman he loved.

"I know this… fuss… isn't what you wanted," he added apologetically.

Auriana considered his words carefully, then shook her head, and smiled.

"No, it's fine. Good, even," she said, once again gesturing to the energy and conversation behind them. "It makes people happy."

"And what about you? Are you happy?" Varian asked worriedly.

Auriana reached up and traced her fingers along the line of his facial scarring, and her expression softened as she stared deep into his eyes. Varian had never told her, but he secretly loved when she touched him like that; loved that she did not fear or abhor the dark, warlike side of his nature. A soft growl rose in his throat, and he leaned longingly into the coolness of her hand.

"It may be a fuss… but… at the end of it all, I get you," she murmured shyly, her voice deepening with emotion. "A-and there's nothing I wouldn't do to be with you..."

Varian inhaled sharply, and a wave of heat rippled through his chest. Auriana had fought against their love for a very long time, but to have her standing firm beside him; to have her running towards their future instead of away from it… well, that meant everything in the world.

"Auri…"

He bowed his head to kiss her for a second time, when he was interrupted by a polite cough from somewhere to his left. He grunted in faint irritation, and pulled away from Auriana to see Genn and Broll waiting patiently a respectful distance away.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Auriana, but it's time we stole your King away," Genn apologised, with a brief sidelong glance at Varian.

"Quite alright," Auriana replied smoothly, though there was still the slightest hint of reluctance in her tone as she blushed and stepped away. "Just… keep him safe, would you?"

"You have my word, my lady," Genn assured her graciously, "Though I make no promises about beating him in the hunt..."

He smirked wolfishly as he turned to make his way back to the main group, but Varian did not immediately respond, nor move to join him. His attention was still fully focused on Auriana; his hands lingering on her waist as they silently stared into each other's eyes.

"Go," she murmured, answering his unspoken question with a small smile and an encouraging tilt of her head. "Have fun."

Varian was still reluctant to leave her - in truth, he always was - but he was far more confident in doing so once he had her express support. He kissed her briefly on the forehead and squeezed her hand, before at last making to follow Genn and Broll back to the horses. By this time, each and every one of the hunters were mounted, even Gelbin Mekkatorque, though they all waited patiently for Varian as he made his final adjustments and swung up into the saddle.

He paused to take one last look at Auriana, now standing alone beside the great oak, before he heeled his gelding into a trot and headed off down the road towards Goldshire. The rest of the hunting party and their retainers followed soon after, and within minutes the group were excitedly talking and boasting and sharing skeins of wine and ale amongst themselves once more. The two dwarven thanes even went so far as to begin to _sing;_ a rowdy and rather salacious hunting song that somehow got louder and louder with each verse.

The hunters rode through Elwynn for over an hour, until they reached a wide clearing on the edge of one of Varian's favourite hunting grounds. From here, they would continue the hunt on foot while the hands and servants tended to the horses and set out a noonday feast. Varian had no particular taste for hunting on horseback, or even with dogs. It seemed unfair, somehow, and he felt that if he wanted to eat, then he should damn well have to earn it with the strength of his arm and the skill of his bow.

After a short briefing discussion - which included no small measure of good-natured posturing and ribaldry - the group split off into pairs, and carefully made their way into the darker depths of the forest. Each hunter now carried a horn to signal when a kill had been made, as well as to warn of any unforeseen danger or injury. There was a competitive element to the day as well - the hunter or hunters that downed the first buck were traditionally gifted a reward from the King's own hand, and pride of place at the lunch feast later that day.

Of course, to win such an honour, the hunters had to best Varian himself, and he did not intend to make their task easy. He had eagerly led the charge into the forest, and now wove all but silently through the trees, clutching his new night elven hunting bow tightly as his sharp eyes sought any trace of a suitable stag. Twenty yards to his right, Broll prowled with equal assuredness and grace, his movements mirroring Varian's as closely as if they were of one mind.

They did not say a word to one another, and nor did they have to. Varian knew Broll's hunting and fighting patterns almost as well as he knew his own, and he trusted the Archdruid implicitly. Broll never panicked or acted precipitously, and Varian could not have asked for a better companion if he hoped to win the day.

They stumbled upon a suitable target only about half an hour of walking; a fine buck with towering antlers and clever eyes that was as large a beast as Varian had ever seen. As luck would have it, however, the buck was grazing within the narrow confines of a stand of ash trees, and was well protected from any arrowfire. Varian guessed that he could perhaps get a shot off into its flank, but from this angle it was far more likely that he would hit a tree instead, and scare the beast off on an inconvenient bearing. He could, however, see a gap in the treeline about a hundred yards south, which would make an ideal ambush point if they were able to successfully flush the deer out in that direction.

Varian glanced over at Broll, crouched about twenty yards to his right, and made a series of swift, silent hand gestures.

 _Flank west, then sweep south. Move in on my command._

Broll nodded his understanding, and carefully nocked an arrow as he crept off into the undergrowth. He was not hunting as a bear today, instead preferring the challenge of using a bow to bring the stag down. Still, he was just as deadly as a night elf as he was as a ferocious bear, and if Varian had calculated correctly their movements correctly, the hunt would be as good as over within the next few minutes.

Varian forcibly slowed his breathing, counting down through ten heartbeats as he prepared to leap from his hiding place. With himself flanking from the north, and Broll from the west, the deer would have little choice but to turn towards the clearing in the south, where he would be a much easier target for their arrows. Just as Varian had silently counted seven, however, there came the loud, sharp crack of a twig from somewhere nearby. Startled, the deer's head snapped up, its ears twitching violently, and without any further provocation it darted off through the trees in precisely the _wrong_ direction.

Varian swore. He was certain he had not made a sound, and he doubted Broll had either; though he also supposed it made very little difference _who_ had moved when their prey was bounding away through the trees.

A savage growl tore through Varian's throat as he lunged from his hiding place and pushed himself into a full sprint, trusting Broll to follow. Varian was a highly competitive man by nature, and he would _not_ lose the chance to bring down a prize buck his own wedding hunt. He may not have be able to keep up with a stag on an open field, but here in one of the denser parts of Elwynn Forest, he could more or less match the beast stride for stride. He was fast, he knew, especially for a man of his size, and if he could _just_ angle himself across the buck's path and get into a position for a clean shot, the kill could still be his…

Varian leapt high into the air over a fallen log, when a blur streaking through the forest to his left suddenly caught his attention. At first, he thought it might be Genn Greymane in his worgen form, ready to steal the kill out from under him, but this creature was sleeker and not as hunched in the shoulders. It was, he quickly realised, a true wolf, with a shining silver-grey pelt and the sharp, clever eyes of born predator.

The wolf was fast, too, and seemingly fearless; darting through the trees with a mad and heedless joy. Varian's blood rose at the sight of it, not willing to lose his kill to another challenger, but the wolf did not seem to care for the stag at all. It was entirely fixated on Varian, darting around him with the uncontrollable giddiness of a young pup, and when it abruptly changed tack and turned to the east, he made the split second decision to ignore the stag and follow. A fierce, primal impulse had risen within him as he ran, and he had never been one to ignore his own powerful instincts.

It wasn't something Varian could explain, but it felt perfectly natural to be sprinting through the forest on the wolf's heels, and for a moment, he forgot everything save for the simple joy of running _free._ He didn't know where they were going, and nor did he particularly care. The forest blurred into a haze of green around him as he ran faster and faster, and he could hear nothing save for the thundering of his own heart in his ears and sharp rasp of his breath in his chest.

It had been some time since he had pushed himself to such physical extremes, and he was pleased to find that he had not lost either his speed or his stamina. The wolf, however, was a worthy contender, and it began to gather speed at what seemed to him to be a very unnatural rate. His blood surging, Varian pushed himself as fast as he was able without running headlong into a tree, but the wolf continued to gain ground on him until it finally vanished into the undergrowth with a taunting whine.

Snarling in frustration, Varian skidded to a halt and glared around for the slightest hint of silver-grey fur flashing between the trees, but the wolf had most certainly vanished as quickly and silently as it had appeared. More troublingly, Varian realised had no idea where he now stood, and he cursed himself for getting so caught up in chasing the beast that he had lost track of both his whereabouts, and his ultimate goal. It wasn't like him to be so distractible, but at the time following the wolf had seemed like the most reasonable and natural choice in the world.

Varian brushed his sweat-soaked hair back from his face, and took a few deep breaths as he took stock of his location. He had chased the wolf into a ring of trees surrounding a small, tranquil pool, though he wasn't sure how long they had been running to be able to estimate distance. The light also seemed to be unnaturally bright here, and Varian found that if he stared too long at the rippling water, it began to give him a headache.

A twig suddenly cracked somewhere in the forest behind him, and Varian whirled to face sound; nocking an arrow to his bow in anticipation of any trouble. He was not afraid of wolves, especially not the one who had run alongside him so playfully earlier, but nor did he intend to ignore the prickle of warning that rose at the base of his neck. His muscles tensed as the undergrowth shifted and crackled, only to immediately relax as the branches parted to reveal a slender, wide-eyed doe.

The deer was very young, perhaps only a year into adulthood at best, and was likely too young to have bred. It stared back at him placidly, with not a hint of fear, and for a brief moment Varian considered putting an arrow through its eye. In the end, however, he couldn't bring himself to kill a deer so young, nor one that apparently didn't even have sense enough to run away. There was no challenge, no honour in such a kill, and Varian had never been one to take the easy path.

"Not enough meat on you anyway," he muttered.

He lowered his bow.

"You ought to be careful," he told the doe, watching it closely as it came forth to drink from the pool. "There are wolves about. And worgen, and dragons… and Light knows what else."

Varian sat down on a nearby rock, balancing his bow across his lap as he stretched his legs and readjusted his boots. He didn't know why he had felt the need to give advice to a deer, or even why he was talking to the animal at all, but there was something about its big, dark eyes that struck him as vaguely human.

"They're hunting a stag for my wedding feast - or trying to, at least," he added. "My… my _wedding_ feast…"

As he spoke, he felt his chest tighten, and the weight and reality of what he was about to do abruptly crashed down upon him like an avalanche. He had been so focused on protecting Auriana and getting her down the aisle in one piece - in itself, no easy task - that he hadn't taken much time to think about himself, and how _he_ felt to be standing on the eve of his second wedding.

Varian's fingers opened, and his hunting bow tumbled from his fingers and down into the soft grass. He pressed a hand to his chest, and for a moment, he found it hard to breathe. Suddenly, he felt it _all_ ; the sheer weight of expectation on his shoulders mingling with the pressure of a very public wedding and the irresistible power of his love for Auriana… and for _Tiffin_.

Their wedding had been an equally grand royal affair, of course, but in the years since Tiffin's death, he had forced those memories deep down into the part of his heart that he rarely dared to touch. The image of her smiling and dancing, resplendent in her wedding dress, had almost been too painful to bear. It was a dull ache, now, scarred over many times, but Varian still feared spiralling back down into a depression if he allowed his thoughts to linger overlong.

Sitting alone in the clearing, however, his carefully constructed walls began to crack and crash down all around him. It wasn't that he had forgotten Tiffin, but that a combination of pain and guilt had held him back from remembering more often than not. The pain was old, but the guilt had been a rather new development. In a way, he felt it was a betrayal of Tiffin's memory to have been so happy with Auriana… and he also knew that it was entirely unfair on Auriana if he were to be constantly mulling over the death of his first wife...

Varian ran a hand over his eyes, and abruptly realised that the doe was still standing nearby, staring back at him with those impossibly soft and clever eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that," he grunted, but still the animal did not move.

The doe cocked its head to the side, and continued to watch him with an alarmingly human expression. It almost seemed as if it expected him to say something, too, if such an idea was not patently ridiculous. He was no king out here, however, and the doe flatly ignored his command. It merely twitched a tawny ear in his direction, and patiently waited for him to continue speaking.

"Fine," Varian sighed, throwing up his hands. "I'll play."

He was a private person by nature, and did not often share his feelings with anyone, save for perhaps Auriana. In this case, however, he realised that he had something that needed to be said, even if he didn't want it to be _heard_.

 _If people could see me now_ , he thought ruefully, _They would think I was going mad._

"I don't have cold feet, if that's what you're thinking," he warned the doe. "Far from it."

He closed his eyes, and he could picture Auriana as as clearly as if she were standing right in front of him. The mere thought of her alone was enough to make his heart beat faster, and he was more sure of his decision to marry her than he had been of any other decision he'd ever made in his life.

" _Light_ , I love her," he murmured. "I do. More than I ever believed I was capable of loving anyone… which is probably still a good deal less than she deserves. She's... remarkable. I want to spend every day of my life protecting her, _loving_ her… making her happy. But…"

The words came easier than he expected, perhaps because the doe could not reply, and hence could not offer him censure or judgement.

"But… I can't help but feel as if I'm doing something wrong," he continued stiffly. "As if I'm… failing Tiffin. As if I'm betraying the love that we had in some way."

He stared down at his hands, and began to idly fiddle with the gloves; pressing and moulding them around his fingers as he struggled to put his feeling into words.

"I keep telling myself she would want me to be happy, that she wouldn't want me to be alone forever, but… would she?" he asked doubtfully. "Am I just… lying to myself so that I don't feel so damn guilty? Let's face it, it wouldn't be the first time..."

Varian snorted ruefully, and shook his head. He felt rather ridiculous, talking to the doe as if it could actually understand a word he was saying, but there was something comforting in its peaceful expression and enormous brown eyes. It really _did_ look almost human, and not at all like a normal animal. Certainly, it was far too calm for a wild deer, its entire demeanour far too knowing, and between it and the wolf, he vaguely wondered if there was something more going on here than a chance encounter in the woods.

The unusually placid deer was, however, merely a distraction from the larger issue at hand. Varian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his thoughts, when the truth of it all struck him like lightning, and it dawned on him exactly what he _needed_ to say. He didn't pretend to know precisely what happened after death; whether Tiffin's spirit was still around to hear his words, or whether he was just whispering into a wide, empty universe, but now that he had started down the path of reflection, he found that he couldn't stop.

He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, he let go of a great many things that he had been holding on to for far too long.

"I love you, Tiffin," he murmured falteringly, speaking as if it were really _her_ standing in front of him, instead of just a curious deer. "I will never forget you, or the love we shared. How could I? Our son - the son _we_ made - is the light of my life."

He smiled sadly to himself, wishing that more than anything that Tiffin could have seen the wise and brilliant man that Anduin was rapidly becoming.

"But… it's… it's time for me to stop living in the past," he added quietly. "I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life, and I… I'm _choosing_ to be happy."

It was true, he realised, albeit a good deal later than he probably should have. He had seen his fair share of tragedy in his life, tragedy that had been beyond his control, but in many ways, _he_ had also been a leading cause of his own misery. It was something he had always known, deep down, but he had never fully appreciated just how much he had been his own worst enemy until he had finally decided to chose something else.

Something _more._

"I want Auri as my wife, and… wherever you are, I hope…"

He paused, and felt a strange lump rise in the back of throat, unbidden. His eyes, too, suddenly pricked, and he wiped furiously at them with the back of his glove hand.

"No," he amended, his voice cracking with barely repressed emotion. "It's more than hope. I... I _know_ that your heart is big enough to let me move on. To let her love me, a-and to let me love her…"

As he spoke, Varian finally felt the colossal pressure in his chest lessen, and he found it a great deal easier to simply _breathe_. Across the clearing, the doe's ears flicked backwards, as if it had heard something he hadn't, and it stomped its hoof firmly into the grass. It tossed its head and bleated happily, and Varian was once again struck by the distinctly human nature of its expression.

"Goodbye…" he whispered, the word at once softer than a breath and as loud as if he had shouted it to the entire world.

Varian closed his eyes, and as he sat in stillness and silence, the last threads of guilt and doubt and hurt unchained themselves from around his heart. He allowed his memories of Tiffin to wash over him, and for the first time in a very long while, they were not distorted through a lens of pain. He remembered every detail, from the smallest crinkle in the corner of eyes as she smiled, to the musical peal of her laugh… and with each slow, steady beat of his heart, he let her go. Varian would not forget, _could_ not forget… but after so many years alone, he could at long last choose to forgive himself.

He might have been there for hours, days even, but when he finally allowed himself to drift back to reality, he was more at peace within himself than he could ever remember having felt before. Oddly enough, the doe had now vanished, without so much as a hoofprint to mark its passing; and as with the wolf, Varian couldn't help but to wonder if the creature had even been real at all.

He looked around, uncertain, as the blinding light in the clearing dimmed, when he heard a loud voice calling his name.

"Varian? Varian! Are you out there? Can you hear me?"

Varian hastily rose to his feet, and collected his bow from where it had fallen in the grass. He was not ashamed of his emotions, but nor did he wish to share the truth of his experience in the clearing with anyone else - especially given that he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.

Some things were just for him, and him alone.

He had just managed to pull himself together when Genn, Broll, and Kalec burst into the clearing, each looking rather frantic. They relaxed immediately upon seeing him, though Varian did not miss the way they each scanned him from top to tail for any sign of injury or other trouble; their expressions each amusingly similar.

"Varian! Where on earth have you been?" Genn demanded, his bushy eyebrows twitching upwards. "We were starting to think you'd been kidnapped. Again."

"As you can see, I'm still in one piece, and there are no kidnappers in sight," Varian said drily, spreading his arms wide. "I just… had a bit too much wine, and needed to sit for a few minutes to clear my head."

It was not the best lie he had ever told, admittedly, but Genn seemed to have bought it without argument.

"You must be getting old, my friend," the worgen King teased. "You had barely half a skein."

"Must be," Varian conceded, shrugging.

"Well, if you're sure there's no trouble, we ought to get back to it," Genn suggested. "Dinner isn't going to catch itself."

Satisfied that Varian was safe, he clapped Kalec on the back, and slipped through the trees and back out into the forest. Kalec still looked somewhat bemused by the bow in his hands, but he was nothing if not enthusiastic, and he happily followed Genn's lead. Broll, however, hesitated, and put a hand on Varian's shoulder to prevent him from running off to join them.

"Varian?" he prompted, his brow creasing thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're alright? You look somewhat..."

"Yes?"

Broll frowned, and struggled in silence for a few moments as he tried to find the right words.

"I am not sure," he admitted. "Different."

He folded his arms across his chest, and gave Varian an all too-knowing look.

"It is a big day tomorrow," he said slowly.

"Yes. It is. And… it can't get here fast enough," Varian said confidently, meaning every word.

Broll's golden eyes were sharp, and he stared at Varian for a long time before he was seemingly satisfied.

"You are good man, and a good friend," he said finally. "I want nothing but happiness for you."

"I know you do," Varian said gruffly. "As I wish the same for you. You know I'm not especially… eloquent with my emotions, shall we say… but it means a great deal that you are here."

He reached out to clasp Broll's forearm, and together they shared a moment of quiet, solemn understanding. Important as the moment was, however, Varian eventually found the outward display of his affection rather cloying, and he released Broll's arm with a bracing shake of his head. His fingers tightened around his bow and he straightened his shoulders, ready put the strange events of the day behind him as he turned once again to the hunt - and to his future.

"Now," he added, his eyes glinting with challenge as he led Broll back into the cover of the treeline, "You aren't going to let the gnome beat you in a hunt, are you? Come on."


	6. Chapter Six

**Auriana**

After seeing Varian off on his hunt, Auriana retired to his study to attend to a few last minute things before the wedding. Or was it _their_ study, now? While Auriana had lived in Stormwind Keep for a year now, she had never really thought of the place as home. Varian was home, certainly, but the Keep itself was another matter. It wasn't that she felt unwelcome - far from it - but rather that she had still clung to the last vestiges of her old life in the form of her apartments in both Dalaran and Stormwind.

The apartment in Dalaran was a perk of her rank of Archmage, and Auriana did not intend to give it up, but her modest dwelling in Stormwind was another matter entirely. She had barely used the place in years, and she would certainly have no reason to return there after her marriage to Varian. To that end, she had enlisted the help of Varian's fastidious chamberlain, Falster, to assist her in finding a buyer.

Although the idea of selling the place had only occured to Auriana a few days earlier, Falster had taken to the task with his unique brand of autocratic dedication, and had returned to her that morning with no less than twenty offers. He had also taken it upon himself to critique the relative merits of each offer in great detail, and while Auriana sincerely _tried_ to listen, she found it very difficult to concentrate fully on monotonous voice.

Fortunately, Falster did not seem to notice the glaze in Auriana's eyes, though her bodyguard Ridley certainly had. The elite guard made no attempt to hide her amusement at Auriana's predicament as Falster droned on and on, and Auriana found she could not look in Ridley's direction for fear of revealing her own bemused inattention.

"Falster," she murmured, holding up a hand when she could finally take no more. "Thank you. You've certainly been very… thorough."

"But of course, Your Grace," he sniffed, clearly offended that she might expect anything less of him.

"Although... are you sure these figures are correct?" she asked, nodding pointedly to some of his notes. "Some of these offers are more than five times what I paid for the apartment in the first place…"

"Naturally, Your Grace," said Falster, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "As of tomorrow, that apartment will have been the former home of a Queen of Stormwind. It is a part of the city's history, now."

Auriana raised her eyebrows.

"And this… matters?"

"Of course! People will pay good gold to own a part of history," Falster insisted.

Auriana found it quite frankly bizarre to consider herself a part of Stormwind's history, though she supposed Falster's explanation was as reasonable as any.

"If you say so," she murmured. "Look, I don't really care _who_ buys it, so long as it's sold. I trust your judgement."

She handed him back his pile of parchments, and fixed him with her most ladylike stare. She was well aware that Falster obeyed her largely out of deference to Varian, but if she were going to be Queen, she was determined to have the chamberlain's respect in her her own right.

"Please donate the full proceeds of the sale to a young man named Lukas Crowther. He lives in Old Town, with his aunt."

"Are you sure, my lady?" Falster asked, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. "It is quite a substantial amount…"

Auriana nodded, and quickly scribbled a note on a piece of scrap parchment.

"I'm sure. That's the address," she confirmed.

Falster accepted the note with an air of skepticism, but Auriana knew he was far too dedicated to his work to disobey her order. As much as he may have disliked her personally - and she was fairly sure he _did -_ he would not risk his pride or reputation on an act of needless defiance.

"Very well. Is that all for today, my lady?" he said finally, tucking the proffered note into his breast pocket.

"Yes. Thank you," Auriana said, dismissing him with an idle wave of her hand.

"I will attend to the King before the wedding tomorrow, but should you require anything, you need only ask, Your Grace," he added, offering her a stiff bow before he turned and left the study.

 _Tomorrow._

Auriana felt a sudden knot twist in her stomach at his words, and her hands clenched on the edge of the table as she took several deep, steadying breaths. She was excited beyond words to be marrying Varian, but at the same time she was fairly certain that she was going to fall flat on her face upon entering the Cathedral. The resulting feeling was a heady mix of exhilaration, adrenaline and sheer terror, and it left Auriana so light-headed that she barely even realised that Ridley was speaking.

"Sorry, what?" she mumbled, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the world from spinning.

"Crowther'd appreciate that, my lady. You taking care of her boy," Ridley repeated quietly.

Auriana sighed and fiddled with a long strand of her dark hair, trying very hard to ignore the fresh rush of guilt that flooded through her chest. Crowther had died doing her job, a job she had volunteered for… and yet Auriana wasn't sure she would ever stop blaming herself for the tragic series of events that had befallen them in Elwynn Forest and the Duskwood.

"She gave her life for mine," she muttered. "It's the least I can do…"

Auriana traced her fingers idly over the whorls in the heavy oak of the desk as she spoke, and she was so distracted by her own brooding thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin when Ridley suddenly appeared on her left and stared down at her with a worried smile.

"Everything alright, my lady?" Ridley asked. "You're looking a bit pale."

Her tone was very soft, and far more akin to one friend speaking to another than a guard addressing her charge. Yet while Auriana certainly considered their relationship friendly, she wasn't sure whether Ridley had asked because she actually wanted to listen, or whether it was because she was simply doing her duty.

"I always look pale, that's just my face," she quipped evasively, eliciting a very small smile from Ridley, "And I've told you a hundred times, it's Auriana. At least when we're alone."

"As of tomorrow, I'm pretty sure it's 'Your Majesty'," Ridley pointed out, folding her arms across her chest.

"I suppose you're right," Auriana sighed.

The 'Your Graces' and 'my ladies' were one thing, but they were both still a far cry from 'Your Majesty', and everything that came with the title. She certainly didn't feel very majestic.

"Are you married, Lana?" Auriana wondered, more to take the focus off herself than anything else. "I'm sorry, I never asked…"

"Yes, I'm married," Ridley confirmed. "My husband is a blacksmith, down in the Dwarven District."

"I'm assuming he has a name?" Auriana asked, smiling slightly.

"Thorin. A fine, strong name for a fine, strong man," Ridley said proudly.

Auriana leaned back in her chair, and forcibly rested her hands in her lap. She was tense, fidgety, but listening to Ridley talk _was_ helpful. She would have felt more relaxed if Varian were around, or perhaps Anduin, but in their absence, Ridley made for fine company. As a lady, Auriana knew she probably should have sought out some of the other young noblewomen in the Keep, but a battle-hardened elite guard was _far_ more her speed.

"Tell me about him," she prompted quietly.

"Not much to tell, really. He's the biggest, dumbest oaf of a man this side of the Maelstrom, but he's mine, and I love him," Ridley said, shrugging.

Her voice rang a tenderness that defied the playfulness of her words, and Auriana could practically feel the room warm with the strength of her obvious love.

 _Wherever you are, Thorin,_ she thought, _You're a lucky man._

"My lady… Auriana… is that what troubles you? Are you concerned that you won't have a loving marriage?" Ridley asked gently, tilting her head to one side. "I have served King Varian for a long time. He is a _good_ man, I have no doubt he'll treat you well…"

"Oh, no, I'm not worried about that in the slightest. He loves me, and I know he'd never hurt me," Auriana said quickly. "Besides, if he _were_ to mistreat me, I would have absolutely no qualms about turning him into a fluffy little bunny as punishment."

In her mind's eye, she conjured an image of Varian as a _very_ disgruntled bunny, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to smother an sudden, uncontrollable wave of giggles. Ridley, too, let out a loud snort of amusement, and from the look on her face, Auriana could tell that she was picturing the exact same thing.

"I would pay good gold to see that," Ridley laughed, shaking her head.

"I think a lot of people would," Auriana agreed. "I could charge an entrance fee; I'd make a killing at the Darkmoon Faire…"

She squeezed her eyes shut and chuckled at the thought, and for a moment, the mere act of laughing was enough to lift some of the weight from her shoulders. All too soon, however, Auriana's mirth was replaced by the uncomfortable but now-familiar knot of anxiety in her stomach. She pressed a firm hand to her belly in a half-hearted attempt to quell the sensation, but the gesture could not have been more useless if she had tried.

"Your plans for the Darkmoon Faire aside… there _is_ something bothering you," Ridley noted, her forehead creasing in a sober frown. "I know I'm just your bodyguard, but…"

"You're not _just_ anything," Auriana corrected her sharply. "Not to me."

She thought of Crowther again, and her chest tightened.

"I appreciate that," Ridley said, nodding, "But you haven't really answered my question…"

Her expression was patient and intractable, and Auriana realised there was little point remaining tight-lipped. She had tried to keep her worries to herself to avoid upsetting Varian, but they were alone, and she trusted in Ridley's discretion.

"Where should I start?" she sighed, throwing up her hands. "My hair, my dress, _falling over_ in my dress, my vows... I mean, I know I'm no wordsmith, but it's a lot harder than I thought… and even if I somehow manage to make it through the wedding without becoming the laughing stock of the whole damn Alliance, I actually have to _run a kingdom_. I know I'm not alone, but it all seems so impossibly _huge_ and I just… I couldn't bear it if I let anyone down. If I let _him_ down…"

Auriana bit down hard on her lip, the sudden shock of pain allowing her to cut herself off before she _really_ got rambling.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, shaking her hand through her hair. "I shouldn't have..."

"It's quite alright," Ridley assured her. "Sounds like you had a lot you needed to get off your chest."

"Apparently..."

Auriana pinched the bridge of her nose, and took several deep breaths. She hadn't meant to unload on her faithful guardswoman quite so spectacularly, but her worries had come bubbling to the surface with such force that she hadn't been able to stop. Fortunately, Ridley did not seem to mind, and she gave Auriana a small, encouraging smile.

"Well, I'm not sure I can give you any advice about being a queen," she murmured, gesturing pointedly to her guard's uniform, "But as to the wedding… perhaps it would help if you were to pick one thing to focus on, instead of trying to deal with everything at once?"

"That's a good suggestion," Auriana said truthfully. "One thing. I can do one thing."

She frowned in concentration, and narrowed her attention down to what she felt was one of her most pressing concerns.

"Alright. Ah… what were your vows to Thorin? If you don't mind me asking. Everything I write just seems… insufficient."

She had hoped that Ridley might be able to provide her with some much needed inspiration, but the bodyguard suddenly seemed reticent to talk, and she struggled to meet Auriana's eyes.

"Ah, my apologies, I can't rightly say," she said evasively.

"I'm sorry, it's a rather personal question," Auriana said uncertainly, wondering whether she had crossed a line.

"No, it's not that. We were married during the course of one _very_ wild night in Booty Bay," Ridley admitted, her ears burning red. "Most of it is a bit of a blur."

"I see," Auriana said quietly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tried not to laugh at the look on her bodyguard's face.

"I vaguely remember a drunken goblin shaman conducting the ceremony, and at some point I think I punched a draenei woman in the face. Thorin's beard somehow caught fire, too," Ridley snorted. "I've never seen anything burn that fast. Honestly, it was probably just about the worst wedding anyone's ever seen, but…"

"But you're happy?"

"Oh, aye. I wouldn't trade my lunkhead for all the gold in Stormwind," Ridley agreed, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection. "My lady… Auriana… I may not remember the exact words, but I _know_ that I told him I loved him, and that was more than enough. I'm certain King Varian will feel the same."

Auriana smiled faintly, and was just about to open her mouth to reply when there came a sharp, authoritative rap at the study door. Ridley instantly came alert, as she was trained to do, though Auriana doubted that anyone who intended to harm her would knock. Unless of course it was Falster again, or _worse_ , the tailor, back for a fourth 'final' fitting.

"What now?" Auriana glowered. "I swear to the Light…"

She wanted nothing more than to be left alone for the rest of the day, and her hands inadvertently balled into fists. Much to her surprise, however, it was not Falster or the tailor who opened the door, however, but none other than a beaming Tess Greymane.

"Bad time?" she asked brightly, sticking her head into the small gap between the open door and its frame.

"Princess Tess!" Auriana exclaimed, instantly relaxing her somewhat threatening posture. "My apologies, I thought you were someone else. Come in."

"Well, I should hope so," Tess said primly. "Is everything alright?"

The Gilnean Princess stepped into the study with a confident, casual swagger, and quickly made herself at home on the chaise. She had joined her parents in Stormwind weeks earlier, though with all the fuss around the wedding, Auriana had only had the chance to speak to her on a handful of occasions. Still, from what she little had seen, she knew Tess to be a clever and independent young woman, with a tongue as quick and sharp as her wit. Auriana also knew that Tess and Anduin got along famously, though she couldn't fathom why Tess would have come to see _her,_ of all people.

"Everything is… fine," Auriana said quickly, hoping that Tess would not catch the lie. "Ah… can I help you? Anduin isn't here, but they should be back later this afternoon…"

"I'm not here for Anduin, actually," Tess said slowly.

She crossed her legs and laid her hands delicately in her lap, every inch the picture of proud Gilnean nobility - though there was nothing ladylike about the sly, mischievous glint in her dark eyes.

"Don't you think that it's a little unfair that King Varian and Father and the others get to go out hunting, while we're stuck here in the Keep?" she asked coyly, choosing every word with the utmost care.

"Ah… I suppose. I hadn't actually given it that much thought…" Auriana said honestly.

"I mean, it's _your_ wedding too, right?" Tess continued. "Do you really think you ought to be up here _working_ , while the boys get to have all fun?"

She seemed to be making an effort to appear as wide-eyed and innocent as possible, though even Auriana was not so poor at reading people that she believed the act for a second.

"Did you have something in mind?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Oh, nothing _too_ specific," Tess said blithely, "But some of the other ladies and I thought that we might take you out for a drink?"

"A drink?" Auriana repeated, thrown by the unexpected suggestion. "And which ladies?"

"Oh, friends only, of course, like me, and Mother," Tess said reassuringly.

"And?" Auriana pressed, sensing that this was intended to be a far larger affair than Tess was letting on.

" _And_ … ah… I _may_ have invited Jaina, Moira, and Tyrande. Oh! And Aysa. The blood elf woman, too. Valeera? She seemed _very_ pleased to have been included," Tess smiled. "They're all waiting outside…"

Auriana's gaze subconsciously flicked to the door, and she swallowed nervously.

"You convinced them all to come? _How_? What did you tell them?" she asked, not quite able to believe that Tess had roused a group of _the_ most powerful women in the Alliance to take _her_ out drinking, of all things.

"Oh, this and that," Tess said dismissively, with a casual wave of her hand.

"Such as?"

" _Well_ … if I _had_ to give an example…" Tess said, with a theatrical sigh, "Tyrande thinks that this is all a very important Kul Tiran tradition, and that she will cause great offense to you if she refuses to attend."

"A Kul Tiran tradition? Really?" Auriana asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "And how do _you_ know that I'm half Kul Tiran, anyway?"

She was certain that fact had never come up in any of their brief conversations, though she supposed that it was just as likely that Anduin had filled Tess in on her background.

"I do my research," Tess said vaguely. "It's unimportant. What matters is that you agree to attend - and if anyone asks you about Kul Tiran traditions, just… lie."

Her piercing brown eyes narrowed, and she tented her fingers beneath her chin.

"You _can_ lie, right? Anduin is bloody hopeless; he goes red as a beetroot if he so much as _thinks_ about uttering a falsehood…"

She shook her head in grave disappointment, as if the inability to lie convincingly was a particularly egregious failure of character.

"Ah… I'm not sure it matters. Tess… you _do_ know that Jaina is _also_ Kul Tiran, right?" Auriana countered. "You can't just make up traditions, she'll figure it out…"

She trailed off uncertainly at the look on Tess' face, for it seemed as if the Gilnean Princess were now struggling to contain a burst of mischievous laughter.

"Why, who do you think gave me the idea?" Tess said archly, and in that moment, Auriana came to fully appreciate that she was being played like a damn fiddle.

Tess was still the picture of coy innocence, of course, though Auriana was now certain that this whole thing had been planned well in advance, and was not as spur of the moment as Tess' attitude would suggest. Still, Tess was not so blind as to notice Auriana's reticence, and she leaned forward on the chaise with a kind, consoling expression.

"Auri… can I call you Auri?" she asked. "Anduin calls you Auri, but Mother says I'm _always_ being too familiar…"

"Auri is fine…"

"Well, I don't mean any offense, and I certainly don't presume to know you as well as Anduin, or King Varian," Tess said gently, "But it seems to me… and perhaps a few others... that you've been a little... uptight, of late..."

"Uptight? I'm not… _uptight_ ," Auriana spluttered, sitting bolt upright in her chair. "I… I'm just… very… very… ah... focused."

"If that's what you'd like to call it," Tess said, with a delicate shrug of her shoulders, "But I think we can both agree that you are well overdue for some good old fashioned fun. And a few stiff drinks."

Auriana scowled so impressively that she caused Tess' cool, calm expression to briefly slip, though even _she_ had to admit, however reluctantly, that the Gilnean Princess had a point. She knew she could be an intense person at the best of times, let alone under the immense pressure of her own very imminent wedding - and she couldn't really remember the last time she'd really had _fun_. She sighed.

"Does Varian know about all this?" she grumbled, wondering if Tess had concocted her plan at his behest.

"Of course he doesn't know, I'm not stupid. You may not have noticed, but he can be a _touch_ overprotective where you are concerned," Tess quipped, deadpan.

That, at least, made Auriana snort, though Ridley appeared considerably less amused.

"King Varian may not know, but _I_ do. Where did you intend to take her?" she asked, her right hand drifting to the pommel of her sword.

As much as Ridley appeared outwardly relaxed and amiable, she took her duty very seriously, and did not see Auriana's safety as a joking matter.

"It's a surprise, though it's nowhere dangerous, I assure you," Tess insisted, her tone leaving little room for argument. "Light, you make it sound as if a horde of barbarians are going to set upon her the moment she leaves the room. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"You don't know the Lady Auriana very well, do you?" Ridley snorted. "She could find trouble standing alone in an empty field. Er… no offense, my lady."

"No, that's true," Auriana admitted. "I probably could."

Tess at least had the good grace to smirk; though while she conceded the point with a graceful nod, she was not so easily dissuaded from her ultimate goal.

"Aren't you one of the most powerful mages on Azeroth, Auri? Between you and Lady Jaina, I'm sure we can handle anything that might arise," she argued, "And that's not even counting Tyrande and the others…"

"That may be, Princess, but I'm not letting her out of my sight," Ridley growled warningly.

"Then you'll just have to come with us, won't you?" Tess concluded, rising to her feet and looking the older woman dead in the eye.

They stared at one another for a long time, neither so much as blinking, before Tess finally turned her head to look at Auriana for approval. She was certain, _eager_ , though Auriana wasn't sure that she could muster the same enthusiasm. As kind as her new peers in the Alliance had been, it was another thing entirely to approach them in an intimate, informal setting - especially when there was alcohol involved, as Tess surely intended. Ridley, too, seemed hesitant, though that perhaps had a good deal more to do with her concern over Varian finding out, than because she actually perceived Tess' plan to pose a serious risk.

On the other hand, perhaps it _would_ be fun to spend the afternoon with the other women of the Alliance. Certainly, it had to be better than wallowing alone in Varian's study and unloading her problems on poor, patient Ridley...

Auriana rose to her feet, her fists balling determinedly, and nodded.

"There! It's settled," Tess exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.

She bared her teeth in a wide, satisfied smile, shattering the last illusion of innocence and making Auriana feel as if she had been very successfully _hunted_. Evidently, Greymane's daughter was used to getting her way, and was not one to be underestimated.

"Um … should I change?" Auriana asked, looking down at the heavy blue silk of her skirts. "Would trousers be better, I don't know if…?"

"No, no, you're perfect," Tess insisted, stepping forward to take Auriana firmly by the arm, before she half-guided, half-frogmarched her towards the door.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm been kidnapped?" Auriana sighed, exchanging a sidelong glance with Ridley as her bodyguard fell into step behind them.

"Probably because that's more or less exactly what's happening," Tess laughed, grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Now come _on._ Let's go take a few years off Varian's life, shall we...?"


	7. Chapter Seven

**Auriana**

Auriana permitted Tess to drag her from Varian's study, though she paused briefly to give instruction to the guards. She wasn't sure how long Tess intended to keep her out, and she didn't want Varian to return from his hunt to find her gone without a trace on the eve of their wedding. Tess tapped her foot impatiently the whole time, and she barely allowed Auriana to finish speaking before she grabbed her firmly by the elbow and whisked her out into the corridor.

Once outside, Auriana was rather astonished to see that Tess had not been lying, and that Mia, Jaina, Moira, Tyrande, Aysa, and even Valeera had indeed come to celebrate. They were all dressed more casually than Auriana ever had seen them, and yet they were still such a singularly powerful and impressive group of women that it almost hurt her eyes to look upon them.

"Er… good afternoon," she smiled shyly, trying to resist the urge to look down at her feet. "Thank you all for coming."

"You're most welcome, dear," Mia said warmly. "I hope Tess didn't have to twist your arm too much."

The Queen of Gilneas glanced briefly at her only daughter, who beamed back at her with an expression of _almost_ believable innocence.

"Oh, no… not at all," Auriana lied. "Though she did neglect to tell me where we might be going."

"Well, we wanted to keep it a surprise," Tess explained.

She beckoned, and Valeera came forward with a length of blue silk cloth stretched between her hands. Auriana took a slight step back, uncertain, but the blood elf rogue was much faster. She slipped into Auriana's shadow in a blur of motion, and placed the blindfold about her eyes before Auriana could so much as squeak in protest.

"Is this really necessary?" Auriana mumbled, the silk cloth scraping across the sensitive skin of her nose as she spoke.

"No," Tess admitted, "But it is fun. Come on."

Auriana felt a sudden tingle run up her limbs as Jaina opened a portal somewhere nearby, and she was surprised to realise that they were leaving Stormwind. She had assumed Tess would have bustled them all off to a tavern in Old Town, or perhaps the Dwarven District, but it seemed that the Princess of Gilneas had much grander plans in mind.

A set of soft, warm fingers closed over Auriana's forearm, and she found herself being guided gently towards what she assumed was the threshold of the portal. Unfortunately, between her bad hearing and the blindfold, her awareness was now quite dulled, and she stumbled slightly as she stepped forward. The hand on her arm tightened, and a second later Auriana felt herself go weightless as the familiar, twisting magic of the portal spell took hold.

The sensation only lasted for a few fleeting moments, before Auriana felt her boots contact solid ground once more. The air was different here, cleaner than that of the city, and it had a fresh, pleasant smell that Auriana couldn't quite place. The ground was hard and rocky beneath her feet as her mysterious guide led her forward, and in the distance she could faintly hear the low, mournful calling of some strange bird.

It was rather disorienting, walking along the uneven path in pitch darkness, but mercifully the journey was short. Auriana walked perhaps twenty yards before someone pulled her to a stop and untied her blindfold, and she blinked as the bright afternoon sunlight abruptly hit her eyes. A hazy, grey-green landscape of stark rock and sparse, flat topped trees slowly resolved around her, and Auriana gasped quietly as she recognised a large, lonely wooden building rising from the low-hanging fog.

"I've been here before…" she murmured. "This is the Tavern in the Mists… we're in Pandaria?"

Tess nodded brightly, and tugged on Auriana's arm again in an effort to get her moving further up the hill.

"I thought you might prefer somewhere out of the way, where we are less likely to be noticed, or recognised," she explained. "Aysa was kind enough to make arrangements."

"I'm pretty sure this group is going to be noticed no matter where we go…" Auriana snorted, glancing over her shoulder at her unlikely group of companions.

In truth, they could not have looked more conspicuous if they had tried. Tyrande alone was so spectacularly lovely as to draw every eye, and it wasn't as if she were the only beauty in the group. The afternoon light glinting off Jaina's pale hair gave her the appearance of a silvery halo; made even brighter by her proximity to Valeera, who shone like the sun itself. Both Aysa and Tess wore identical, radiant smiles, while Mia and Moira looked every inch the powerful queens of their respective nations. Taken together as a whole, they were nothing short of dazzling, and they drew many curious looks from the other patrons as they stepped through the Tavern's arched doorway.

Fortunately, the Tavern in the Mists was not at all busy at this time of day - if ever, given its out of the way location - and Auriana counted only seven other people aside from the two Pandaren women tending the bar. It also seemed that they had been expected, judging from the sudden look of eagerness on the face of one of the barmaids, and once again Auriana wondered _just_ how long Tess had been planning this event.

"Oh, hello!" the Pandaren woman said brightly. "On behalf of Innkeeper Tong, welcome to the Tavern in the Mists! We were very pleased to get your message, Master Cloudsinger."

She gave Aysa a short bow, before turning to Tess with a beaming smile.

"And you must be Princess Tess," she added warmly. "My name is Jing, and I will be your personal attendant today Should you require anything, you need only ask."

Auriana glanced sidelong at Ridley as Tess and Aysa conferred with Jing, before turning her head to inspect their surroundings more closely. In truth, she was rather surprised by the choice of venue. During the war, she had known the Tavern to be something of a haven for mercenaries and other unsavoury elements - including none other than Wrathion, the Black Prince - though it seemed that peacetime was another matter entirely. The Tavern was clean and neat, and much brighter than she remembered; far more akin to a travellers rest along the way to Kun Lai than the shady, back alley alehouse she had once known.

The Tavern's current customers were all exclusively Pandaren, and several sets of dark, ursine eyes stared at Auriana's little group curiously from over a wide assortment of rustic mugs and flagons. Still, it was not long before the Pandaren turned their full attention back to their drinks or games of _jihui_ , having evidently deemed the newcomers acceptable, and Auriana had to grudgingly concede to Tess' argument. In a busy tavern in Ironforge or Stormwind, such a group would have likely caused a riot, whereas here they were little more than a passing curiosity. Clearly, while the Tavern itself may have returned to serving its more traditional clientele, it seemed the unspoken rule of 'no questions asked' was still in full effect.

"Come on, Auri, let's go!" Tess proclaimed; her loud, eager voice abruptly startling Auriana out of her quiet reflection.

"Go?" she repeated, confused. "But we just got here…"

"Out back," Tess said, nodding her head to the Tavern's far door. "We're going to go bathe in the hot springs, isn't that exciting?

"Ah… the hot springs? Really? I'm not sure…"

Auriana had heard rumours about the Tavern's legendary hot springs, though she had never personally indulged. She had been far too consumed by the war to so much as consider taking the time for a spa, and even now, in a very different time and place, she still couldn't picture herself relaxing in clouds of warm, swirling mists.

"Do not worry, Lady," Jing smiled, pressing her hands together over her chest. "We have provided you with amenities for both privacy and comfort, and I will personally ensure that you are not disturbed by any other patrons. We have excellent security here at the Tavern in the Mists."

"Aysa was the one who suggested the springs. We thought it might help you relax," Tess added, as if it were only that easy. "It's supposed to be wonderful for the skin, too."

"Wait… my skin? What's wrong with my skin?"

Auriana touched a hand to her pale cheek, prompting Tess to snort and roll her eyes. She locked her arm firmly through Auriana's, and wasted no time using her superior height and weight to manhandle Auriana towards the back door. At the same time, Auriana felt someone take her arm from the other side, and she turned her head to see Jaina staring down at her with sharp blue eyes.

"Auriana. I'm going to tell you something Kalec told me once," she said seriously, her voice low and quiet. "The world is not going to end because you decided to let your hair down and put yourself first for a change."

"I find it difficult to believe that a dragon would be familiar with that _particular_ idiom," Auriana snorted, more to herself than anyone else.

"Would you stop being contrary? He didn't use those exact words, but that was essentially the point," Jaina sighed.

"And how has that worked out for you, Jaina?" Auriana growled stubbornly.

"Not as well as I might have hoped," Jaina admitted. "But… I've been trying. You should, too."

Her expression was at once soft and earnest, and Auriana found it very hard to say no when someone looked at her with such clear sincerity. It was also clear that her allies had gone to considerable lengths to arrange an afternoon for her enjoyment, and as much as she did not appreciate being being so thoroughly _handled_ , she also had no desire to appear churlish or thankless.

"Alright," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders in surrender. "How does this work?"

She allowed Tess and Jaina to lead her outside, where a wooden platform and seating arrangement had been set up around a deep, steaming spring. The wood looked well used, and Auriana wondered just how long Pandaren had been travelling here to soak away their aches and pains. She also noticed a small, colourful red and gold tent beneath the shade of a tree about five yards south, and belatedly realised that bathing in the hot springs almost certainly meant removing her clothes.

"Ah… Jaina…"

"It's a hot spring. Surely you didn't think you were going to get in there wearing a dress?" Jaina pointed out, her pale eyebrows lifting in amusement.

"Well, no," Auriana admitted, "But…"

"Don't be a scaredy-cat, Auri!" Tess laughed, making her way over to the tent with a carefree swagger.

" _Scared_? I'm not… I'm never… might I remind everyone I fought Archimonde in single combat?" Auriana blustered, pointing a finger at Tess' retreating back. "I am _not_ a coward…"

"Well, maybe that's cause ye didn't have ta fight Archimonde naked…" Moira suggested slyly.

Much like Tess, she seemed very eager to get things underway, and she paused only to give Auriana a teasing smile before she, too, disappeared into the darkness of the red and gold tent. Jaina, Mia, Aysa and Valeera soon followed close behind, leaving Auriana standing alone on the edge of the hot spring with Ridley on one side and Tyrande on the other.

"I thought this was supposed to be calming…" she muttered, feeling very much the exact _opposite_ of relaxed.

"Hot springs have many curative properties, although I did not know it was traditional in Kul Tiras to bathe in _Pandaren_ springs before one's wedding," Tyrande remarked slightly, clearly far too clever to have been fooled by Tess' very obvious lies.

"And yet, here we are…" Auriana sighed, not even trying to keep up the pretence. "Apparently I'm learning all sorts of things about my father's homeland today…"

"Princess Tess is indeed a very determined and resourceful young woman," Tyrande observed, her expression cool as she gazed out across the mist-shrouded landscape.

Given that Tess and her mother had been living in Darnassus, Tyrande probably knew her quite well, and she did not seem at all surprised by the way in which Tess had brought them all together. It was also difficult to tell whether she found the young Gilnean's antics amusing or annoying, though if Auriana had to hazard a guess, she thought Tyrande might have been amused. Tess' well-meaning duplicity had not dissuaded her from attending, at least, and she seemed to be genuinely interested in the quiet beauty of the hot springs.

"Still, we have travelled far," Tyrande continued, her pale eyes gleaming. "We should take advantage of the opportunity. In truth, being here reminds me of bathing in the Temple baths with the other priestesses when I was young."

Her voice warmed considerably as she spoke, and a fond smile flickered across her ageless face. Auriana watched her closely, and vaguely wondered what Tyrande meant by being 'young'. Was that ten thousand years ago, or 'only' a millennia? The High Priestess did not elaborate further, however, instead nodding thoughtfully at Auriana before she turned to join the others in the tent.

"We could return to Stormwind if you are truly uncomfortable, my lady," Ridley suggested, once Tyrande was out of earshot.

Auriana did not immediately reply, and bent down to pick up a few pebbles from the stone grey ground. Ridley remained silent as Auriana skipped them off the rocks, the soft crack of stone on stone echoing up the mountainous walls that divided the Veiled Stair from the Vale of Eternal Blossoms. It was quite beautiful here, in a stark sort of way, and Auriana supposed she ought at least _try_ to relax.

"We should stay," she said finally. "It's quite sweet that they've gone to so much effort, actually. I'm just being… contrary, to borrow a phrase. Who knows, I might even enjoy myself."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Auriana confirmed, though her stomach gave a funny sort of hop at the thought. "You'll keep watch?"

Ridley nodded her assent, and stared around hawkishly as Auriana made her way over to the brightly coloured tent. Inside, it was surprisingly spacious, with more than enough room to house Auriana and her companions as they disrobed. The Pandaren innkeepers had also provided the group with a set of rough cut linen strips that could be used to protect one's modesty, though Auriana doubted that wearing them was traditional. She also began to suspect she may be the only one who intended to wear them, as the other women undressed and chattered amongst each other as comfortably as if they did this every day.

Flustered, Auriana turned her back, and stood as far forward into a corner as she was physically able, before reaching hesitantly for the laces of her bodice. It felt as if everyone were staring at her, though of course such a thought was plainly ridiculous. Each of her companions were far too busy removing their own clothes, and even if they had not been so distracted, they were all too polite to gawk in any case.

All, it seemed, except for one. Auriana jumped about a mile in the air as she suddenly felt someone's cool fingers run down the length of the scar on her back, and she clutched the top of her dress frantically to her chest. She whirled in surprise, narrowly fighting back the urge to call on her magic, and nearly knocked Tess back out the side of the tent.

"Dammit, Tess, don't _do_ that," she muttered darkly, reaching out to steady the younger woman before she toppled over.

If Auriana had felt self-conscious before, it was nothing compared to how she felt knowing that Tess was actively staring at her scar, let alone _touching_ it. She doubted that the Princess of Gilneas had meant anything poorly by it, but it nevertheless made her skin crawl. Aside from healers - and them only when strictly necessary - Varian was the only person she generally permitted to touch her back.

Tess did not not seem to find Auriana's scars horrific, however; her expression instead hovering somewhere between amazement and respect.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" she exclaimed. "I just… wow."

"'Wow'?" Auriana repeated, thoroughly baffled by Tess' response.

"Anduin said you were injured fighting Deathwing," Tess asked eagerly. "Is that true?"

"Yes..." Auriana said warily.

"Amazing…"

Tess very much looked as if she wanted to inspect Auriana's scar more closely, but she was too sharp not to have noticed Auriana's unhappy reaction, and she kept a respectful distance as she began to remove her own boots.

"I wanted to help in the campaign against him, you know," she explained. "The Cataclysm breached the Greymane Wall, and… well, you know what happened after. But Father said I was too young. Not that he would have let me go even if I were forty, mind you."

Auriana supposed it was only natural for Genn to be protective, given how he had lost his only son, though it was abundantly clear that Tess was not the kind of princess content to stay beneath her father's thumb. She had a brave, inquisitive temperament, and Auriana didn't doubt that she would be causing Genn all kinds of trouble in the years to come.

"I bet it was thrilling," Tess added, turning from her boots to the laces of her bodice.

"That's one word for it, I suppose…" Auriana snorted.

It _had_ been thrilling to fight an Aspect, in a way, though Auriana could have happily done without the scars - or the heart-pounding, electrifying terror of having gone berserk for the first time. Of course, she wasn't about to tell Tess the whole truth of how it felt to go into battle. She admired the girl's spirit, but she certainly didn't want to be responsible for sending Tess off on some reckless quest to prove her courage.

"I wish I had a scar," Tess continued, her dark brown eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I mean, I know it must have been very painful, but I'm sure some smaller scars wouldn't hurt _too_ badly..."

"Really?" Auriana asked, unable to comprehend how Tess could see a scar as something to be revered, rather than reviled.

A shiver ran up the line of her back as she remembered the molten agony of Deathwing's claws against her skin, and she looked away. Auriana would never deny that she loved to fight, but neither could she pretend that she had survived her long, bloody career without considerable damage to both her body and her soul. Scars - both physical and emotional - were a necessary consequence of her chosen lifestyle, but that didn't mean she was in any particular hurry to collect more.

Belatedly, Tess seemed to realise that her comments may have been inappropriate, and her eyes widened in chagrin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive," she said hurriedly, "But… people look at me and see a soft, sheltered little princess. They look at _you_ and see a warrior. A woman of strength."

For the first time Tess' affable expression slipped, and Auriana abruptly realised that her frustration had really nothing to do with scars at all.

"Your mother is a woman of strength; she doesn't have any significant scars… or at least that I know of," she pointed out, nodding her head in Mia's direction.

"That's different," Tess said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Mother is strong politically - and she's a wonderful woman, don't get me wrong - but you're a _fighter_. I just wish… I was, too."

Auriana sighed. She _really_ didn't want to encourage Tess to go charging off on some foolhardy crusade, but nor did she want to discourage the girl from learning to defend herself, and her kingdom. No one would ever question it if heirs like Anduin or Liam Greymane wanted to be warriors, and Auriana quite frankly felt it was unfair that Tess would not be given the same opportunity.

"What's stopping you?" she asked finally.

"Father. I mean, I think he's always struggled to see me as anything more than his 'little girl', but it became so much worse after Liam died," Tess confessed.

She grew unusually solemn at the mention of her deceased brother, and Auriana could tell that she still felt the loss keenly. Auriana also abruptly realised that Tess' situation was somewhat similar to her own - being forced to take on a mantle of leadership when all she really wanted to do was fight to defend her people. Tess would do her duty, of course, Auriana had no doubt of that, but if anyone understood what it was like to feel stifled by the strictures of duty and position, it was Auriana herself.

"Tess…" she started, reaching out to touch the younger woman's shoulder, while awkwardly holding her dress to her chest, "This morning you manipulated arguably _the_ most powerful group of women on Azeroth into doing exactly what you wanted. Whatever path you choose in life, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Auriana certainly didn't feel qualified to be giving advice, but she appeared to have said the right thing. Tess' expression brightened and she squared her shoulders proudly, as if ready to charge off to battle right then and there.

"You'll get your chance," Auriana added quickly, "But you should know that battle isn't always a glorious adventure, like it is in the stories. It's difficult, and painful, and sometimes you lose a hell of a lot more than you gain. Just don't be in a hurry to get yourself killed, alright?"

"I won't," Tess promised, though her eyes still shone with the confident invulnerability of youth. "But I _will_ be a hero, I promise. Just like you."

She finished shrugging out of her dark, formal dress, and gave Auriana a broad grin.

"Thank you, Auri."

"Ah… you're welcome?" Auriana murmured.

She wasn't sure what kind of terror she had just unleashed on Azeroth by encouraging the young Gilnean Princess, but she was nonetheless pleased to see Tess confident and happy once more.

"Still, a scar or two wouldn't hurt," Tess mused. "Maybe a facial scar, like King Varian. One down my cheek, perhaps…"

She mimed cutting her face with some kind of blade, and her already gleeful grin widened.

"Tess!" Mia called, beckoning for Tess to step away. "Stop harassing Auriana, she needs to get changed."

It was then that Auriana realised that the rest of her companions were almost entirely undressed, having shed their robes in the time that she and Tess had been talking. In a small tent, they were also very close, and try as she might, Auriana couldn't help but to compare her small body to the others. She had gained some much-needed weight since returning from the war Draenor, and her regular training sessions with Varian had ensured that this weight was mostly muscle. She was also quite notably scarred, and overall she couldn't help but to feel that her body was uncomfortably hard and warlike when compared to the supple femininity of her companions.

Both Tyrande and Moira were priestesses, and while Auriana knew that they could each hold their own in a battle, she doubted that either of them had seen much regular fighting over the last year or so. Tess had yet to shed the lanky, awkward slenderness of adolescence, while both Mia and Jaina possessed the gentle curves so typical of beautiful human noblewomen. Aysa Cloudsinger was one of only two other people present who would have likely spent a lot of time in physical training, though as with most Pandaren, it was difficult to tell what was fur, and what was muscle. And as for Valeera…

Nudity was apparently not a cause for embarrassment amongst the blood elves, at least not amongst women, judging by the casual ease with which she had removed all her clothes. She had also decided not to avail herself of the provided linens, and given the relative difference in their respective heights, Auriana suddenly found her field of vision entirely consumed by the sight of Valeera's bare breasts as the blood elf woman stepped toward her with a serious expression.

" _Oh_ … um… hello..."

"I wanted to apologise for how we met," Valeera said bluntly.

"There's no need," Auriana muttered, awkwardly trying to look everywhere but straight ahead.

"Oh, but there is. It is clear that you have been avoiding me," Valeera insisted. "I should not have introduced myself to you in such a manner, but you must understand that Varian is a very dear friend. I would do anything to protect him."

"Well… I'm… I'm sure… ah... Varian is grateful for your loyalty," Auriana stammered, feeling her cheeks burn red.

It wasn't that she hadn't seen other women in the nude, of course, but in Valeera's case they were _right there_ , and quite frankly, rather intimidating. Valeera seemed supremely unaware of her discomfort, however, and continued to talk as if she were not standing before Auriana with her impressive chest on full display.

"I know you do not require my blessing," Valeera continued earnestly, "But as one of Varian's oldest friends, I thought you ought to know that I believe you to be an excellent match for him."

"Well… consider the apology accepted," Auriana muttered hurriedly, willing to say just about anything if it meant that Valeera would move. "Really. I… um… thank you."

Of course, she appreciated that it could have been a nice moment, if not for the bosom bouncing only a few inches from her nose, and she genuinely _tried_ to smile. Unfortunately, she suspected that the expression came across more as a grimace, though once again it seemed that Valeera remained blissfully unaware of Auriana's awkwardness. She broke into a wide smile, her brilliant green eyes sparkling, before turning to glide from the tent with a distinct air of satisfaction.

Auriana sighed with relief and turned her face towards the bright red cloth of the tent wall, dimly wondering who would make the next attempt to kill her with embarrassment, when she abruptly realised that she was standing alone. For a moment, she considered simply hiding in the tent until the others were done soaking, though as the somewhat reluctant guest of honour, she assumed her absence would be noticed.

 _It's just a hot spring_ , she told herself firmly. _You can do this._

She allowed her dress to fall to the floor, and quickly replaced her soft bustier and undergarments with the linen wraps provided by their Pandaren hosts. In truth, they did not do all that much to protect her modesty, though she supposed it was better than nothing, and with a deep, steadying breath, she stepped into the damp, cool air outside the tent.

Auriana's companions had already settled themselves into the still, steaming waters of the hot spring, leaning comfortably back against the edges of the pool as they sipped from rough-hewn clay mugs. Tyrande, Valeera, and Aysa all remained bare-chested, as was most likely traditional, though like Auriana, Moira and the other human women had elected to wear the linens. They each appeared calm and contented, and even Auriana had to admit that it was rather nice to see such a diverse group of women make the effort to come together to share a moment of peace and friendship in an often chaotic world. She was still rather surprised to have been the catalyst for such a gathering, and she hoped that her shyness had not been mistaken for a lack of gratitude or care.

"Auri!" Tess exclaimed, the moment Auriana came into view. "We were starting to wonder if you'd been kidnapped."

She glanced over at Ridley, who did not seem at all amused by the joke. Auriana's bodyguard still wore her full plate, and was staring through the swirling mists with the keen-eyed glare of a hawk, as if she expected assassins to spring up from beneath the water at any moment. Privately, Auriana understood her concern, though she at least _hoped_ that she would manage to make it through the afternoon without starting some kind of calamity.

"Ah… just getting changed," she explained, fighting back the urge to cover her bare skin with her hands.

"Won't you join us?" Aysa asked kindly, gesturing to the seat beside her.

Auriana gingerly climbed down into the water, keeping one hand firmly over the linens about her chest, and was somewhat surprised to find that it was the perfect temperature. She had worried that the springs might be too hot, but instead she found the water simply inviting as she sunk down up to her shoulders. The hot steam swirled over her skin, dampening her hair and obscuring most of her body from view, and all together she had to admit it wasn't nearly as bad as she had expected.

Once she was settled, Aysa smiled and offered her a mug of some hot, dark golden liquid, which Auriana accepted with a grateful nod.

"What is it?" she asked Aysa, taking a slow, tentative sip.

The liquid was surprisingly rich and earthy on her tongue, and it sent a pleasant warmth tingling throughout her body as she swallowed. The scent, too, was intoxicating, noticeable even over the sulphuric odour of the hot springs, and Auriana eagerly took a longer draught as Aysa explained.

"It's an herbal tea from the Jade Forest," she said, still smiling. "Brewed especially for relaxation."

"It's delicious," Auriana said honestly, sinking down a little further in the water. "I can't say I drink tea often, but it's very enjoyable. Thank you."

Aysa seemed pleased by Auriana's response, her soft ears twitching as she exchanged a satisfied glance with Tess. The Princess of Gilneas looked equally pleased, though there was a distinct predatory gleam to her eye as she stretched out her long legs beneath the water, and took a slow, contemplative sip of her own steaming hot drink.

The conversation resumed as Auriana made herself comfortable, quietly sipping her mug of delicious tea as the others talked animatedly around her. She did not participate overmuch, save for a murmured agreement here and there, but she nevertheless found it quite enjoyable to listen to her companions talk. They were each highly intelligent and interesting women, with a wealth of experience as leaders, warriors, and heroes, and even as quiet as she was, Auriana found it quite instructive to hear them speak.

Eventually, however, conversation naturally turned towards the wedding, and Auriana uncomfortably found herself the centre of attention as all eyes turned in her direction.

"Are you excited for tomorrow, Auriana?" Tyrande asked lightly.

Auriana blushed at her companions' sudden interest, though she supposed it was an entirely reasonable question. Unfortunately, with her wedding day now mere hours away, she was so nervous that she was all but certain she would pass out during her vows. She _was_ excited, but more often that not it was the kind of edgy, restless excitement she felt right before a battle, rather than the gentle eagerness she assumed was typical of most brides.

"Ah… yes, of course," she said quietly, offering Tyrande what she hoped was a convincing smile. "It's been a long road, but I'm glad the day is finally here."

"At least you did not have to wait ten thousand years," Tyrande pointed out, her long eyebrows twitching with rarely seen good humour.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Auriana conceded, chuckling.

She could barely fathom being alive for that long, let alone having loved someone for that long. She certainly _felt_ as if she could love Varian for the rest of time, if only she were so lucky, but it was still a difficult thing to get one's head around.

"I have never attended a human wedding," Valeera chimed in. "In Silvermoon, weddings can last for a full week. There are feasts every night, and the bride wears a different gown for every day of the ceremony."

"Oh, yes, the dress!" Tess enthused. "Auri - you must tell us all about it!"

Thanks to Mia's patient efforts in wrangling the royal tailor, Auriana had finally settled on a design that she liked, though she wasn't sure how Tess expected her to explain what she was wearing.

"It's… um… white..." she said awkwardly.

The other women burst into fits of laughter at Auriana's admittedly sparse definition, and she took a hurried, overlong sip of her tea to hide her blush.

"In Pandaria, wedding dresses are actually red," Aysa said kindly, quickly interjecting in an attempt to spare Auriana her embarrassment, "With patterns embroidered in gold or silver thread."

"How lovely," Mia mused. "White is traditional in Gilneas, of course, as it is in Stormwind."

"Probably for the best that I'm human, then," Auriana murmured. "I'm not sure I can wear a _red_ dress to marry the High King of the Alliance..."

This time, she joined in the wave of laughter that rippled around the small group, and the awkward tension in her shoulders lessened just a little bit.

"The best wedding I ever attended was a dwarven wedding in Ironforge," Jaina remarked, drumming her fingers thoughtfully against the side of her mug. "Lots of music, lots of dancing. And copious amounts of ale, of course. It was a fair few years ago now, however, though I assume a dwarven wedding is still much the same. Moira?"

"Oh, aye, though ye must remember, I was married as a Dark Iron. Our traditions do differ from those of our cousins in Ironforge and Aerie Peak," Moira replied.

A brief expression of sadness flickered across her face, and Auriana abruptly remembered that she had, in fact, once been married. Moira was still young enough that it was easy to forget that she was a widow, her husband and emperor having been killed by Alliance soldiers upon orders from her father. Auriana didn't pretend to know the full extent of Moira's complicated life history, but it was abundantly clear from the look on her face that whatever else Emperor Dagran Thaurissan have been, she had genuinely loved him.

"Still plenty o' ale," Moira added quickly, her brief bout of melancholy vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, "And plenty o' drums. A lot more fire, though. A Dark Iron wedding without at least three people havin' been set ablaze is considered a dull affair."

"Sounds exciting," Valeera said, her green eyes gleaming. "Elvish weddings are very beautiful, but they can be a tad boring. Certainly no-one would have the audacity to risk ruining someone's hair by starting a _fire_."

"Well, when my son finds a lass worthy o' him, I'll make sure yer invited," Moira suggested.

She gave the excitable blood elf woman a hearty little wink, and Auriana had absolutely no doubt that Valeera would take Moira up on her offer the moment Dagran the younger came of age.

"What about your wedding, Mia?" Jaina prompted. "I've attended human weddings in Lordaeron, Stormwind, Dalaran, and Theramore, but never in Gilneas."

"The Wall _may_ have made that a little difficult," Mia quipped. "And you didn't miss an awful lot. My wedding was very… proper."

Her greying eyebrows quirked in amusement, and she swirled her tea thoughtfully around in her mug.

"You must understand that Gilnean society is very… just _so_. Especially before the Cataclysm. And this was not just any wedding, it was a _Greymane_ wedding. No expense spared, and no-one with a hair out of place," she explained. "I was pleased to marry Genn, but I afraid it was a rather dry event. Perhaps we ought to have lit some fires."

Auriana snorted into her tea, and she was far from the only one laughing. As much as Mia presented as a calm and stately Gilnean lady, her outward decorum hid a sharp and surprising sense of humour that Auriana very much appreciated.

"I will say, however, that things livened up a bit once we departed for our wedding night," Mia continued. "As it turned out, Genn had eaten a bad piece of boar at the feast. He spent the whole night emptying his stomach out the window while I held back his cloak."

" _Really_?" Tess laughed, sending a spray of water arcing into the air as she slapped her thigh. "Father never told me that."

"Your father is a proud man, Tess, it's not the kind of story he would tell," Mia pointed out. "You won't tease him terribly, will you?"

"Oh, of _course_ not, Mother," Tess said slyly.

It was clear to everyone present that she had absolutely no intent of keeping her word, even at risk of Mia's bemused disapproval.

"And you, Tyrande? You were married only recently, were you not?" Mia asked, in a vain attempt to distract her giggling daughter.

"A few years ago now," Tyrande confirmed, "Though somehow it feels both as if I have been married forever, and yet not nearly long enough."

The High Priestess had sat mostly silent as the rest of the women had talked, though she did not appear to find the conversation uninteresting. She certainly seemed eager to discuss her wedding to Malfurion, and her brilliant eyes glowed even brighter as she recounted her story.

"My wedding was wonderful," she said softly. "Darnassus has always been beautiful, but that night it was something truly magical… bursting with life, and colour, and light... Elune shone brighter than I have ever seen her... and best of all, of course, I was finally made one with my beloved. I could not have imagined a more perfect evening."

Tyrande's lips parted in a graceful smile, and the strength of her love was so palpable that Auriana could almost feel the warmth of it on her skin. She had a way of speaking that made Auriana feel as if she had actually been present that night in Darnassus, and her passion was so sincere and convincing that for the first time, Auriana actually began to wonder whether she might feel the same about her own wedding...

"What about you, then, Auri?" Tess asked, once again being the one to interrupt Auriana's quiet thoughts. "What was the best wedding you've ever been to? Something in Theramore, or Lordaeron, maybe? That would have been a sight, or at least before the fall, I mean..."

Once again, Auriana was struck by just how much Tess seemed to know of her, and she silently resolved to have a quiet word to Anduin about spreading gossip.

"Oh, well… ah... I've never actually been to a wedding…" she confessed.

"What?" Tess exclaimed, disbelief written into every line of her face. " _Everyone_ 's been to a wedding."

She looked around the group for support, and each of the other women nodded in turn.

"Not me," Auriana said, shrugging. "I've… never really been close enough to anyone who was getting married to warrant an invite."

Normally, she might have felt self-conscious about admitting such a thing, but something about the swirling mists was making her feel incredibly languid and carefree. It wasn't something she had immediately noticed, but she really _was_ starting to relax, just as Tess had promised. The hot water was doing wonders for her tight, sore muscles, and the more tea she drank, the more she had begun feel strangely blithe and lightheaded. In a way, she even found it a little amusing that the first wedding she would attend would be her own, and she giggled quietly into her cup as the conversation gradually moved on around her.

It was then that Auriana caught sight of her slender fingers wrapped around the dark clay mug, and she was suddenly struck by how _large_ they appeared. 'Large' was generally not a word she generally used to describe her own body, and she found it pleasantly novel to turn her hands back and forth as she studied them through the steam.

"Jaina… have my hands always been this big?" she mumbled, low enough so that only the other Archmage could hear.

"What?" Jaina said, looking baffled.

"Look," Auriana insisted, holding her hand inches from Jaina's nose so that she might see. "Amazing…"

"Ah… are you feeling alright?" Jaina asked slowly. "Auri?"

She exchanged a worried glance with Ridley, who immediately came down from her vantage point to inspect Auriana more closely. Her movement drew the attention of the others, and Auriana suddenly found herself the focus of a half dozen sets of worried eyes.

She giggled.

"Oh no…" Aysa whispered, wringing her hands in consternation. "I may have given her the wrong dose…"

" _Dose_?" Ridley demanded, instantly on high alert. "I thought it was just herbal tea."

"It is! Though the herbs can be rather… potent…" Aysa explained hurriedly. "The tea must have been prepared as if for a Pandaren woman, and given that she's a good deal lighter…"

She trailed off, and shrugged her furred shoulders helplessly.

"What about the others?" Ridley wondered, as she reached down to place a protective hand on Auriana's shoulder. "They don't seem to be quite so affected."

"They're larger, and they may have different metabolisms…" Aysa speculated. "And I believe she's had more to drink than any of us. She seemed to be enjoying it so much, I kept refilling her cup..."

Auriana listened closely as they argued, though she wasn't at all concerned. In truth, she felt better than she had in weeks, even despite the fact that she was half naked, and she wasn't quite ready to return home to Stormwind just yet.

"I feel fine, Ridley," she insisted, staring up at her bodyguard with wide eyes. "Good, even…"

"It won't harm her," Aysa added quickly. "She'll just feel quite... relaxed. A little hungry, maybe. And she might get… giggly."

Auriana tried very, very hard not to prove Aysa right by giggling, only to fail rather spectacularly as she caught sight of Ridley's face.

"S-sorry," she chuckled. "I really am fine."

"No more tea, though, I think," Ridley said firmly. "And we should get you out of the water, it's starting to get dark."

Her worried expression was uncannily reminiscent of Varian, and Auriana was forced to bite her lip to stop from laughing. Varian probably would have been just as concerned about Aysa's curious calming tea, though Ridley was doing a marvellous job of overprotectiveness in his stead. She leaned down to offer Auriana her arm, and gently pulled her charge from the water in a spray of hot droplets and steam.

"As you like. That just means it's time to start drinking!" Tess enthused, making it sound as if that had been her plan along.

She clambered out of the steaming hot spring, water sluicing down her gangly legs, and beckoned eagerly for the others to follow her up the path towards the tent. Moira, Valeera and Jaina were quick to comply, as was Aysa, though Mia did not entirely share her daughter's lighthearted enthusiasm.

"Tess…" she called warningly. "One moment, please…"

"You said I could!" Tess protested, stopping short as the others continued back up the path without her.

"I believe I said you could drink responsibly..."

"I _am_ responsible," Tess huffed, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Besides, it isn't me that I want to get drunk…"

She glanced pointedly at Auriana, and folded her arms tightly across her chest. It was clear that she was trying to remain cool and calm in front of the older women, though there was still a distinct, youthful petulance to her expression that she could not quite hide. Mia, however, was unfazed, and simply stared back at her daughter with infinite patience as she and Tyrande rose from the hot springs in graceful unison.

"Forgive me for mothering, but I would be remiss if I did not remind you to be careful," Mia said firmly, as she shook a hand through her dampened hair. "We are here to celebrate Auriana, not to get her into trouble. Or to get anyone else in trouble, for that matter. Including you."

"I know, Mother," Tess sighed.

"Good."

Mia gave Tess a swift, knowing look, before she and Tyrande turned and made off to join the others. Tess, however, remained standing on the edge of the spring with her hands on her hips, and Auriana hesitated; torn between her desire to reacquire her clothing and wanting to ensure that Tess was not discouraged.

"I don't know why she's getting so fussy with _me_ ," Tess muttered, scowling fiercely at her mother's retreating back. "This whole thing was Anduin's idea, anyway."

"What?" Auriana exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

She glanced over her shoulder at Ridley, but her bodyguard seemed equally stunned by the revelation.

"He thought you ought to get out of the Keep for a day, perhaps have a bit of fun, and he suggested this place," Tess explained, shrugging. "Of course, he knew he didn't have a hope of convincing you to go himself, so he enlisted my help."

"Anduin… I… really?" Auriana repeated. " _Anduin_?"

"He's been worried about you," Tess said quietly. "Worried that if you didn't relax you might start having second thoughts about the wedding. He'd never say it outright, but he's terrified you'll change your mind about his father."

Auriana's heart leapt into her throat, even despite the calming effects of Aysa's tea, and she felt a rush of guilt as she realised that she had misunderstood both Tess' motivations, and the depths of Anduin's concern. The Princess was here to have her fun, of course, but she was here for Anduin, too, and for Auriana, and for the simple reason that she _cared._ It was a thought that warmed Auriana's heart more than any hot spring ever could, and she was suddenly very determined not to let either of them down - even if that meant stepping even further outside her comfort zone than she already had.

"Well, in that case..." she said, grinning shyly as she gave Tess an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Let's not disappoint him, then, shall we?"

* * *

After having dried their damp hair and changed back into their assorted clothes, Auriana's little group made their way back into the tavern for a round of drinks - or six - while Ridley watched them closely from a position in the back corner. Auriana was normally quite able to hold her liquor, even despite her size, but tonight was a notable exception. Between the intoxicating effects of Aysa's herbal tea and the general potency of Pandaren drinks, she was soon thoroughly inebriated; her occasional bursts of shy little giggles greatly amusing her companions.

Auriana wasn't an especially talkative or excitable drunk, but she was nevertheless quite content to sit in the corner and sip her ale while the others discussed a wide variety of topics ranging from the weather patterns in Darnassus to the best way to kill a felguard. They were all very different women, each with their own vastly different histories and cultures and motivations, and yet they conversed as if they drank together every week. Tess had perked up considerably since her brief exchange with her mother in the hot springs, and her boundless energy was enough to infuse the entire room. Even Valeera was warmly integrated into the conversation, despite the fact that as a blood elf she was ostensibly a member of an enemy faction, and Auriana found herself feeling unusually touched to realise that such a powerful and contrasting group of women were so willing to come together in support of _her_.

After a several of hours of drinking, and several plates of delicious spring rolls and spicy vegetable chips, Mia was the first to declare defeat. She had kept up with women half her age surprisingly well, but eventually decided that it was time to turn in.

"Jaina - would you be kind enough to open a portal back to Stormwind?" she asked. "Time for these old bones to get some rest, I think. Can't have me yawning in the middle of the vows, now can we?"

As the designated portalmaster, Jaina had not drunk enough to affect her magic in any real way, though her cheeks still looked a little pink as she rose to comply with Mia's request. Auriana, on the other hand, was now just as likely to blow a hole in reality as she was likely to successfully open a path to Stormwind, and she quietly gave thanks for Jaina's restraint as the older archmage worked her magic.

"I think I may join you, Mia," Tyrande said, also rising gracefully to her feet. "Thank you for the invitation. Perhaps I ought to make events like this traditional in Darnassus the night before a wedding…"

Privately, Auriana was a little surprised that Tyrande had remained for as long as she had. Drinking ale in a dusky tavern was unlikely to be a common pastime for the High Priestess of Elune, and yet much like Mia, she had taken to the task with remarkable commitment. Auriana supposed that as the ruler of the night elf people, Tyrande _would_ have considerable diplomatic skills, though she also suspected that the High Priestess had actually rather enjoyed herself beyond simply participating in the day's events out of respect for her allies. Still, the Tavern was slowly growing rowdier as the night wore on, and Auriana was certainly not offended by Tyrande's intent to retire.

"Thank you for coming," she managed. "Both of you. I… thank you. So much. For everything."

The alcohol was making her rather rambly, though she hoped that her sincerity was clear, even if her words were not. Fortunately, Tyrande seemed to have understood, briefly inclining her head in a gesture of respect before she stepped into the shimmering blue light of Jaina's portal, and vanished. Mia, however, paused, and turned on her daughter with a suspicious expression.

"Tess, dear, do try not to bring _too_ much disrepute to the family name," she said seriously, though the corner of her mouth twitched slightly as she spoke. "Remember what I said."

"Shouldn't you be more worried about Father?" Tess snorted, eyeing her mother slyly over a very large flagon of ale. "The man can't even keep down a bit of boar…"

"Tess Greymane! You be careful!" Mia warned, though she seemed rather resigned to Tess' natural effervescence. "Else _you'll_ have to be the one to explain to King Varian how you gave his future wife alcohol poisoning - or worse."

Tess had the good grace to look at least a _little_ cowed by the threat of Varian's wrath, though the moment was _very_ short lived.

"Not to worry," she said smartly. "Really, Mother, I'm here with two Archmages, a master monk, a queen, a gladiatorial champion, and an actual bodyguard. How much trouble do you think I could possibly get into?"

"Plenty," said Mia.

Mia stared at Tess for a long time, before her trust in her only daughter won out. She finally relented with a small shake of her head, and disappeared through the portal after Tyrande. Tess watched her go, waiting until the portal had snapped fully shut, then turned back to the group with a wicked spark in her eye.

"Let's play a game," she announced, slapping both palms eagerly down upon the tabletop.

"What kind of game?" Auriana asked nervously. "Think I'm a little too out of it for darts or cards or the like…"

As if to emphasise her point, she let out a small hiccup, and gave Tess a rueful smile.

"Don't worry, it's very simple… when it's your turn, you have to decide whether you want to complete a dare, or answer a personal question. If you fail or refuse to answer, you have to drink," Tess explained, clearly trying not to laugh at Auriana's very obvious intoxication. "On the other hand, if you _do_ successfully complete the challenge, the person who tasked you has to drink."

Tess clinked her nails against the bottle of rice liquor on the table between them, and grinned. Auriana, however, was less convinced.

"A dare? What kind of dare?"

"Here, I'll show you," Tess said encouragingly. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'll take yer challenge, Princess," Moira offered.

"Fantastic! Alright. Ah… let me think… I dare you… to down that entire ale without taking a breath," Tess said, nodding towards Moira's very full tankard.

Auriana leaned forward in anticipation, trying not to spill her own drink, but Moira didn't seem even slightly fazed. A Queen-Regent she may have been, but she was a dwarf first, and she pinched her nose and began to guzzle her drink with an enthusiasm that would have won her a Brewfest championship. It took her maybe ten seconds to down the entire thing, and she finished the display by slamming her tankard rim-first onto the table.

"Try ta give me a real challenge next time, lass," she said triumphantly, rolling her eyes at a genuinely impressed Tess.

"Alright, alright," Tess conceded, dutifully downing her shot of the clear rice liquor. "I'll admit, I didn't really think that one through..."

"Very impressive," Auriana agreed, "Although I'm not sure how you're able to do that without taking a breath…"

"Ha! Dwarves don't need ta _breathe_ ," Moira teased. "Didn't ye know? Ale is a perfectly acceptable substitute for air."

Auriana laughed, though in the back of her mind she vaguely wondered if there _was_ something about dwarven biology that allowed them to consume alcohol with such prodigious skill. She was soon distracted, however, as Moira turned her attention to Valeera and posed her the challenge.

"Truth," Valeera said confidently.

"Not a dare?" Aysa asked, clearly surprised.

"A dare is unlikely to present a challenge for a rogue of my skills," Valeera explained, without a hint of doubt - or modesty, for that matter. "And I am curious to see what you consider a 'personal' question."

Moira and Tess exchanged an amused look, and Moira tented her fingers with a sly, thoughtful smirk. She had taken to Tess' game as if she had been playing it all her life, and seemed to be genuinely enjoying the opportunity to socialise so freely with other young women.

"I've got a right good 'un, then. Valeera - you spent a good deal o' time with King Varian and that Archdruid as gladiators, correct?" she asked.

"I did," Valeera confirmed proudly.

Moira leaned forward over the table so that she could look Valeera right in the eye, and she stared up at the slender blood elf woman with a saucy grin.

"Tell us - out o' the two of them, if ye had ta choose one ta take to yer bed, which would ye choose? The King or the bear? Or… has it already happened?"

For a moment, there was stunned silence, until Jaina and Tess both abruptly burst out laughing at the horrified look on Valeera's face. Moira's eyes gleamed with satisfaction at having caught her so handily, while Aysa fluttered her hands with a kind of delighted anxiety.

"Careful, Valeera," Auriana muttered slyly. "One of those answers will put you squarely in the path of a firebolt…"

She honestly didn't know what she would do to any woman that tried to seduce Varian, though she suspected it wouldn't be pretty. Certainly, Valeera believed the threat to be genuine, judging from her expression, and Auriana smiled to let her know that she was kidding.

Mostly.

"I can't answer that! You may as well ask me to choose between my father and my brother!" Valeera protested, with a vehement wave of her hands. "And nothing _ever_ happened, I swear to you on my ancestors."

"Ah, but ye still have ta choose, Valeera. Or ye have ta drink. That's the rules," Moira said seriously, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Valeera bit her lip, clearly warring between her desire to avoid the question and her desire to be included in the group, and after a few moments of internal turmoil she relented with a long, overdramatic sigh.

"Well, then - in the interests of my physical safety - I'm going to choose the bear," she huffed.

"Wise choice," Jaina grinned, with a playful, sidelong glance at Auriana.

"Don't tell Broll that, will you?" Valeera added, her pale brows creasing in a heavy frown. "He will be _insufferable._ "

The group broke out into peals of laughter, their boisterous amusement making Valeera frown even harder. It was a very odd expression on her otherwise smooth and ageless face, and for a long while they were caught up in a cycle of laughing at Valeera and making her frown, which only served to make everyone start laughing all over again.

Eventually, however, their giggles subsided, and Valeera decided that Aysa would be the next victim.

"Do you see that stack of small kegs over there?" she asked, pointing to a very neatly arranged display along the back wall of the Tavern. "I dare you to take one from the bottom row without touching any other kegs, or collapsing the tower."

It was a very Valeera sort of dare. Not one that was intended to embarrass someone - although Aysa would most certainly be embarrassed if she were to fail - but rather a test. As a master monk, Aysa's outwardly calm and meditative personality hid a skilled and deadly interior, and no doubt Valeera wanted to see exactly what she could do.

 _She certainly seems to enjoy 'testing' people,_ Auriana mused idly to herself, as Aysa stepped forward to complete her challenge.

Auriana had always found it rather interesting to watch Pandaren fight. On first glance, they appeared bulky and cumbersome, and entirely incapable of moving with the precision and agility demanded by their traditional martial art. As Aysa was about to demonstrate, however, such an assumption was woefully inaccurate. Powerful chi energy pooled between the Master's hands, and she when she struck, it was with such incredible speed that she would have put a cobra or a hawk to shame.

Intoxicated as she was, it genuinely appeared to Auriana as if Aysa were standing empty handed one second, and holding a small keg the next. The rest of the tower did not even so much as wobble, and Aysa paused only to shoot Valeera a serene, confident smile, before placing the keg back in place with a victorious flourish. The whole display had taken perhaps thirty seconds, impressive even by a monk's standards, and even Valeera seemed happy to admit defeat to such a worthy opponent.

Aysa returned to take her seat at the table, and after watching Valeera drink her penalty drink, she nominated Jaina as the next to answer the challenge. The blonde Archmage considered her options very carefully, her expression as serious as if she were about to address the Council of Six, and eventually chose to accept a dare.

"Oh, darn," Tess huffed, "I was hoping we'd get to ask you some questions about your dragon."

"Yes, I assumed as much. Which is precisely why I chose a dare," Jaina said, her lips pursed in a knowing smile.

"Very well," Aysa smiled. "In that case… as you and Auriana share a homeland, I believe it is only appropriate that you demonstrate a traditional dance of the Kul Tiran people."

Auriana chuckled amusedly into her drink, sending a wave of small bubbles rippling across the surface of the dark amber liquid. Aysa may have appeared to to be the very picture of kindness and tranquility, but apparently she had well-hidden impish streak. Either that, Auriana supposed, or Tess' carefree enthusiasm and playfulness was especially contagious...

"You want me to… _dance_ …?" Jaina repeated, her pale eyebrows shooting up into her hairline in surprise.

"Dance. Yes, please," Aysa confirmed, gesturing to the Tavern floor. "I am sure the other patrons would not mind."

For a moment, Auriana thought that Jaina might refuse, but the Archmage of the Kirin Tor was apparently made of sterner stuff. She gave Aysa a withering glare, though she nevertheless strode confidently out onto the floor, and stood tall and proud as she prepared to give them all a show. She scraped her toe experimentally along the dark wooden floorboards, and seemed just about ready to start dancing, when she paused and looked back across her shoulder towards the group.

"On one condition," she added, tapping her index fingers thoughtfully against her lips. "Auriana has to join me."

" _What_?"

Auriana inhaled in surprise as she spoke, sending bubbles of beer burning up through her nostrils, and she coughed violently for several seconds before she could clear her lungs well enough to speak.

"It's… it's not my turn!" she protested vehemently. "I… you can't just change the rules! I'm… well, I'm the _bride_ , surely that should count for something…"

"Oh, Auri. We weren't asking," Tess sighed, yanking Auriana to her feet and pushing her hard in the back so that she went stumbling across the floor to collide heavily with Jaina.

Jaina smiled as she caught Auriana around the waist, and steadied her with a gentle pat on the shoulder. Her lips trembled with barely contained amusement, and Auriana realised that Jaina was quite willing to do almost anything if it meant that she could drag Auriana along for the ride.

"I'm sorry," she said, in a tone that suggested she was very much _not_.

"I'm not above emptying a box of mana wyrms into your bed, Archmage," Auriana muttered, her cheeks burning hot.

"If that's the price I have to pay to see you dance, then I would consider it a small one," Jaina grinned. " _Archmage_."

She leaned in closer and rested a hand on Auriana's forearm, and her expression sobered ever so slightly.

"I have seen you smile more tonight than I have in the entire time we have known one another," she murmured. "I know it's just a silly game, but I also know that you've needed this, too. Don't stop yourself now."

It may have been the alcohol talking, but Jaina's words made a great deal of sense. Auriana _had_ been enjoying herself, too, far more than she had ever expected… and she _did_ love to dance… She took a deep breath to gather her courage, then straightened her back and neatly stepped her right foot behind her left. She gathered her skirts up off her ankles so that she would be free to move, and began to tap her booted heels hard against the wooden floor to set the rhythm.

Kul Tiran dance was very energetic, and typically played with fiddles and drums. In the absence of such music, however, Auriana had little more than the enthusiastic and somewhat offbeat clapping of her companions. Still, she thought it might make her father proud if she were to recall the dances of his home on the eve of her wedding, and she soon found herself reeling across the floor as if she danced jigs for a living. Auriana may have been shy, but if she decided to do something, she would damn well do it right.

"Come on, Jaina!" she shouted.

"Oh… I'm not sure I can remember the steps…" Jaina laughed, tangling her feet in her skirts and nearly tripping over as she tried to keep up.

"It's easy!" Auriana insisted, her confidence growing with every step. "Close, side, hop, step, side, step, hop, side, close! Where are you getting lost?"

Every eye in the Tavern was drawn towards her, but for once in her life, Auriana didn't care. She felt giddy and free, Jaina's encouragement and her general state of inebriation having done wonders to overcome her natural shyness and reticence. It also helped that dancing was perhaps the one art expected of a noblewoman at which Auriana truly excelled, and she twirled about the room without so much a single care - even for the bar patrons forced to jump out of her way.

Auriana soon became so lost in the movement that it was some time before she realised that Jaina had given up on trying to dance, and instead had begun to sing along to the fast, rhythmic best of Auriana's boots. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she had a lovely voice, rich and melodious, though the song she had chosen was decidedly less pretty. Auriana vaguely recognised the lyrics of an old Kul Tiran jig called 'Salty John', and she knew that while the song was ostensibly about a down-on-his luck sailor who had lost his ship, its deeper meaning was considerably more salacious.

By the time Jaina reached the fourth verse, Auriana was laughing so hard she could barely keep herself upright. It was delightfully strange to hear Jaina singing about plundering booty with all the enthusiasm of the world's sauciest tavern wench, and Auriana found it very hard to keep her mind on her feet. She was determined to play her part in their impromptu duet, however, and she held her complicated rhythm just long enough for Jaina to end her song on a tremulous, ear-shattering high note.

Auriana finished her own performance with a twirl and a splendid flourish of her arms, her knees wobbling slightly from a combination of intoxication and effort. She felt delightfully breathless and invigorated, and she made no attempt to resist as Jaina came forward and caught her hand, raising it to a round of thunderous applause from the entire Tavern. The Pandaren patrons at the bar seemed rather confused as to why two human women were singing and dancing up a storm _here_ , of all places, but they were certainly not going to protest a free show.

"Mother would have a _fit_ if she heard that song!" Tess crowed, slapping her knee with great enthusiasm as Auriana and Jaina finally came back to take their seats.

"Didn't know ye had it in yer, Lady Proudmoore," Moira chuckled, tipping her drink towards Jaina in a gesture of amused respect. "And you, Auriana. Quite the fancy feet ye got there."

"I first heard that song as a child. I thought it was a nice little ditty about a sailor," Auriana murmured. "I think was in my twenties by the time it finally occurred to me that 'porthole' was a euphemism…"

The ladies burst into another round of raucous laughter, and even Auriana had to admit that her naivete was amusing. She shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly and took another drink, while Jaina rounded on Aysa with a beaming smile.

"So. Was that acceptable?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," Aysa agreed. "I do not like to lose, but in this case, I am pleased to make an exception."

She lifted her glass in toast, and cheerfully drank down a hearty gulp of the burning rice liquor.

"I'm glad you approve," Jaina said, watching Aysa drink with great satisfaction. "And now..."

She turned on Tess, and prodded the younger woman gently in the arm.

"I choose you, Princess," she grinned. "What'll it be?"

"Dare, of course," Tess said proudly.

"Of course," Jaina echoed, still smiling. "One moment, please."

Jaina slipped out of her seat with a mischievous smile, and made her way over to the bar. Auriana watched the other Archmage closely, though she had no idea what Jaina might have in mind for Tess' dare. Nor did anyone else, apparently, judging from the curious looks exchanged around the table, though their questions were soon answered as Jaina returned carrying a small glass of some horribly black liquid and placed it down between Tess' hands.

"What is _that_?" Tess exclaimed, her top lip curling in revulsion.

"Oh, a variety of things," Jaina said, waving a hand dismissively. "Some alcohol. Some spices, a few mushrooms, some kind of thick black sauce the innkeeper happened to have behind the bar…"

"Are you saying you want me to _drink_ it?"

"Well, unless you've afraid…" Jaina smirked, her pale blue eyes widening innocently.

"I'm never afraid!" Tess declared, and without so much as a moment's pause, she drank the entire thing in a single, obstinate gulp.

For a moment, Auriana thought Tess might actually throw up. Her face went a peculiar shade of white, then red, before finally settling on an unnatural looking green. She screwed up her nose and closed her eyes, and it was only with a great deal effort and a lot of squirming in her seat that she actually managed to swallow.

"Done!" she gasped, sticking out her tongue to show that she was finished. "That was truly disgusting. You're a cruel and unusual woman, Archmage."

Jaina looked more pleased by the comment than insulted, though she nevertheless acknowledged Tess' victory by taking a delicate sip of liquor.

"Give me some, too, please," Tess added, waving for Jaina to give her the bottle.

"But you completed your challenge. I have to drink, not you," Jaina pointed out.

"Yes, but my mouth tastes like… sludge," Tess sighed. "With a hint of... peppers."

Jaina surrendered the bottle with a amused smile, and Tess quickly cleansed her palate with a rather lengthy swig.

"Urgh, I'm not sure that helps," she grunted, shaking her head. "Still, I won. Which means it's now Auri's turn, I believe?"

"Ah… well, I suppose I've sort of completed a dare… so... truth?" Auriana said, taking another tentative sip of her ale.

She regretted the choice almost immediately, as Tess' eyes narrowed like a cat who had just spotted prey. The Gilnean Princess pursed her lips coquettishly, and she glanced briefly around the Tavern before leaning in with a conspiratorial air.

"How… _big_... is King Varian?"

"What?" Auriana asked, thoroughly thrown by the question.

It was a good deal less personal than she would have expected, and she was rather surprised that Tess had let her off so lightly.

"I… um… well, he's never actually told me. Six three? Six four, perhaps?" she guessed. "Honestly, after about six foot everyone sort of looks the same to me."

Tess and Moira exchanged a look, and the latter burst out laughing; the rich, raucous tone echoing around the entire Tavern and drawing the attention of several other patrons.

"Auri…" Tess said patiently, patting her gently on the leg, "That's not what I meant…"

She raised her eyebrows significantly, but Auriana was entirely nonplussed. Valeera, too, looked confused, and she leaned over to ask Moira for clarification. The dwarven monarch chuckled and whispered something in Valeera's ear, making her clap a hand over her mouth as her brilliant green eyes widened in scandalised delight.

"I… I don't understand…" Auriana said warily.

She looked at Jaina, whose shoulders were shaking were barely suppressed laughter, and then at Aysa, who suddenly seemed very interested in her drink. Even _Ridley_ seemed to find the question amusing, her lips twitching as she struggled to keep the stoic expression expected of a royal bodyguard.

"I wasn't asking about his height," Tess giggled. "I was asking about his… er… _length_."

Auriana frowned, still bewildered by the question, when realisation hit her like a bolt of horribly embarrassing lightning.

" _Oh!_ "

Auriana knew she had a tendency to blush, but she didn't think she had ever gone quite so red as she did in that moment. Light, she still found it difficult not to blush whenever she and Varian were alone, much less when she was asked to describe his physique in intimate detail.

"I… that is… um... he's… uh…"

"Auri…" Tess laughed, "It's not that _hard_ a question to answer…"

She put a strange, suggestive emphasis on the word 'hard', which only seemed to make things worse.

"How _old_ are you, anyway?" Auriana mumbled, her ears burning as if she had lit them on fire.

She struggled within herself for a few seconds, when her eyes suddenly fell upon the bottle of rice liquor, and she quickly conceded defeat with a hurried shot. A round of over-exaggerated, disapproving groans rippled around the group, though it seemed as if her companions were just as happy to have mortified her so completely as they would have been with the actual answer.

Fortunately, they did not linger on Auriana's embarrassment overlong, and the game quickly moved on to other players and other questions. The dares gradually became more creative and more daring, and after several more rounds, everyone in the group was well intoxicated. Only Jaina had managed to maintain some reasonable level of sobriety, given that she was responsible for seeing them all safely back to Stormwind, and yet even she was unusually giggly. Tess' natural bravado had only been enhanced, and she and Moira appeared to be locked in an intense competition as to who could be the loudest. Valeera had begun to challenge random bar patrons to dares, while Aysa was practically bouncing out of her seat with energy and enthusiasm. And as for Auriana...

"Jaina! We should _duel,"_ she announced suddenly, cutting Aysa off in the middle of a very amusing story about three pigs and a hapless Pandaren farmer.

It was a marvellous idea, a duel between two of Azeroth's most powerful spellcasters, and Auriana vaguely wondered why it had taken her so long to think of it. Without waiting for an answer, she stumbled out of her seat and out onto the Tavern floor, her fingers tingling eagerly as she reached for her power. As drunk as she was, however, her magic flared only briefly before it slithered from her grasp, and she pitched forward with a faint squeal of surprise.

"And... _that's_ our cue to leave," Ridley said quickly, stepping in to catch Auriana before she hit the floor.

She had remained mostly silent throughout the evening, save for a few small chuckles here and there, but unfortunately it seemed that she wasn't about to let Auriana burn the whole Tavern down around them for the sake of a dare.

"Oh, but they were going to fight!" Tess pouted.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of," Ridley snorted. "I have exactly one job, and that's to get her home safely. I won't have her showing up to her wedding missing her eyebrows because the Lady Proudmoore incinerated them."

"It _is_ getting late," Aysa agreed, her furred nose twitching. "I wouldn't want her to sleep through the wedding. King Varian would be _very_ displeased."

"The wedding!" Auriana exclaimed brightly. "Did you know I'm getting married tomorrow?"

"Indeed, my lady," Ridley said firmly, "Which is why we need to leave. You've all had your fun, but I think it's time we made our way home. I draw the line at duelling, I'm afraid."

"Oh, alright!" Tess huffed. "But next time… next time we stay out _all_ night…"

Auriana thought she heard Valeera say something in reply, though was she was no longer really listening. Standing up had made her _very_ dizzy, and while it was a pleasant sort of dizziness, it now took all of her concentration simply to remain on her feet. Auriana stared down at her boots, marvelling at the bumpy texture of the leather... when the very next thing she knew, she found herself stumbling down the stone corridors of Stormwind Keep with Ridley's arm firmly around her shoulders.

"Ridley?" she mumbled, thoroughly discombobulated by the sudden change of scenery and her apparent loss of time. "Where are the others?"

"They followed us through the portal, don't you worry," Ridley replied. "Lady Jaina will see them safely back their quarters. Or… I hope she will, in any case."

"I don't understand… I… we were in Pandaria? How did we get here?" Auriana gasped, reaching out to run her fingers along the stone walls to make sure they were actually real.

"Well, you are very drunk..." Ridley said patiently. "Lady Jaina opened a portal to the throne room, and then I brought you up here. Your rooms are right around the corner, Your Grace."

"Oh."

Auriana certainly couldn't remember walking through a portal and up several flights of stairs, but she supposed Ridley had no reason to lie. She was also hardly in a position to argue, given the way the walls and floor were now spinning wildly all around her. Instead, she happily surrendered to Ridley's lead as the taller woman guided her down the dim corridor, when the still silence of the night air was split by the echoing boom of a loud, angry voice from somewhere behind them.

"Ridley! _Ridley!_ "

Even in her drunken state, Auriana recognised the speaker immediately, and she turned on trembling legs to see Varian stomping down the corridor in their wake.

"Oh, we're in trouble now," she murmured, fighting back a mad urge to giggle. "That's his _angry_ voice."

Ridley looked down at Auriana with a bemused expression, though she was certainly _not_ giggling as she straightened to face the furious onslaught of her King.

"Ridley! Do you have any idea what _time_ it is?" Varian demanded. "I thought… I thought…"

He towered above the both of them, chest heaving, though his furious expression softened somewhat as his eyes raked over Auriana from head to toe.

"Well, nevermind what I thought," he muttered darkly. "Is she safe?"

"Perfectly safe, Your Majesty, as you can see," Ridley said smartly.

She was trying her hardest to keep Auriana standing upright, though Auriana knew she was not making it easy. Her head felt warm and fuzzy and her legs were jelly, though she did her very best to appear collected and sober in front of Varian. Ridley was a wonderful bodyguard, and Auriana did not want her getting in trouble for what had ultimately been Tess and Anduin's fault.

Unfortunately, Varian did not seem to find her efforts at all convincing. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips twisted downwards in a fearsome scowl as he glared between them.

"Is he angry with _me_?" Auriana murmured, glancing up at Ridley with wide eyes. "But we left word with the guard!"

"Not to worry, my lady," Ridley said, patting her gently on the forearm. "King Varian isn't angry with you. He's simply… er... very pleased to have you home."

Varian and Ridley exchanged a significant look, though Auriana was too far gone to deduce what it might have meant. He certainly did not _look_ very pleased, however, no matter what Ridley may have said, and she dimly resolved to fix things before Varian got it in his head to accord Ridley some kind of punishment.

"Varian, please. It's not Ridley's fault," she slurred, straightening her spine and attempting to look as serious as possible.

Auriana reached up to place a conciliatory hand on his shoulder, but the alcohol had severely affected her depth perception, and she ended up awkwardly rapping him on the chin. Varian grunted slightly in surprise, and Auriana quickly moved her hand downwards as she tried to gather herself well enough to speak. The mere act of touching the rock-hard musculature of his chest was enough to muddle her thoughts even further than they already were, however, and she entirely forgot what she had been attempting to say in the first place.

"Um… what I mean to say is... d-do you know that you're very, very… um... big?"

Varian took Auriana's hand from where it rested on his stiff, inflexible pectoral, and looked back over her head at Ridley with an expression of utmost bafflement.

"What the hell is wrong with her?"

"She's a little… ah… intoxicated, Your Majesty," Ridley explained nervously. "She's perfectly well, she just needs to sleep it off."

"She's _drunk_?"

For a moment, Auriana thought Varian might start yelling again, when his shoulders abruptly slumped, and all the protective fury in his posture vanished. His rough touch softened, and he reached out to place a bracing hand on her hip. His expression grew contemplative, almost confused, and while Auriana still found it difficult to form actual _words_ , she was able to coordinate herself well enough to give his other hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I've never seen her drunk," Varian murmured. "I didn't think she'd ever let her guard down enough to do so, even with me…"

"For what it's worth, Your Majesty, I actually think she had fun," Ridley said tentatively. "Though you might want to send your alchemist to attend to her in the morning, else you'll have a very bleary little bride on your hands."

Varian nodded, though he was no longer paying her all that much attention. His piercing gaze was fixed on Auriana, and she couldn't resist giving him a shy, tipsy smile.

"Hmph. Well, I suppose I can't begrudge you having a little fun, now can I?" he whispered, brushing an unruly lock of hair back behind Auriana's left ear.

"Shall I take her back to your chambers, sire?" Ridley suggested.

"No, I'll do it," Varian said firmly. "You should get some rest, I'll need you sharp and alert for tomorrow. Just in case someone decides to cause some trouble. Thank you for bringing her home."

Ridley said something in reply, but Auriana was thoroughly distracted as she felt Varian lean down and slide one hand behind the back of her knees. He swept her easily into the air, and the combination of his rapid movement and her already fluttering stomach left her feeling wonderfully lightheaded.

"Whoosh!" she exclaimed delightedly, unable to contain herself.

"'Whoosh'?" Varian repeated. "Just how much have you had to drink, hmm?"

He looked down at her with a mildly perplexed smile, but Auriana could not explain. Instead, she simply giggled and tucked her head against his chest, revelling in the warmth of him as he carried her carefully down the hallway to his chambers. He was strong and so _hard_ , and yet reassuring and comfortable all at the same time. There was nowhere in the world Auriana would have rather been than in his arms, and she felt so safe and cozy that she was nearly asleep by the time he finally sat her on the edge of his bed.

Auriana slipped in and out of awareness as Varian knelt down before her and unlaced her boots, his large hands brushing tenderly against the soft skin of her ankles. She was not usually one to let herself go so completely, but between the warmth of the alcohol in her belly and Varian's touch, she couldn't help but to relax. Her fears about the wedding now seemed largely distant and unimportant, and for the first time in a good long while, she allowed herself to let go and simply enjoy being alone with the man who meant more to her than anything in the world.

By the time Varian freed Auriana from her boots and stripped her down to her silk slip, she was so drowsy that she could barely recognise him as anything more than a giant, dark figure that seemed to take up the entire room. Even as inebriated as she was, however, she felt perfectly safe in his arms as he lifted her up for the second time, and tucked her in firmly beneath the heavy blankets of his bed. She curled up immediately, revelling in the softness of the fabric against her bare skin, and let out a small, contented sigh.

"There," Varian rumbled, patting her gently on the backside. "Are you comfortable? Are you warm enough?"

His rich baritone sent tremors of happiness racing up Auriana's spine, and her chest felt like it would explode with the strength of her love for him.

"Vari… Varian… he's..." she started, only to trail off almost immediately as she struggled to find the words through her drunken haze.

"Auri…?"

"Varian… s'got... very large arms…" she managed finally, the words slightly muffled by a mouthful of pillow as she turned her head and giggled contentedly into the soft down.

For a moment, there was silence, then Auriana felt the bed shift as a great weight settled down beside her.

"Ah… is… is that a good thing?" Varian asked - or at the very least, Auriana _thought_ it was still Varian, though she honestly now had no idea.

The voice was deep enough, certainly, though she was so warm and sleepy that she wasn't sure if she were dreaming, or whether he was a figment of her exceedingly drunken imagination.

"Mmm. Yes," she murmured. "Very good. But…"

"But what?"

Auriana pressed her face into the pillow, and for a second she almost completely blacked out. She felt as if she were floating, weightless as the rest of the world swirled slowly around her, but the sensation was not unpleasant. Her eyelids were heavy, and she felt herself being pulled inexorably down into the dark depths of a drunken sleep...

"Auri?" the deep voice prompted, jolting her back into consciousness.

A warm hand closed over the bare skin of her shoulder, and Auriana arched instinctively into the touch. She tried to lift her head, but doing so made her far too dizzy, and she flopped down bonelessly into the pillows once more.

"Can… can I tell you a secret?" she mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else.

"You can tell me anything."

The bed creaked slightly beneath her as the large form beside her moved, and she sighed as she felt gentle fingers slide into the lengths of her hair.

"Sometimes… sometimes I like to stare at Varian's back," she giggled shyly, somewhat surprised at her own boldness. "When we train in the arena and he's not wearing his shirt…"

Auriana could not deny that she spent an awful lot of time admiring Varian's physical appearance, especially when they fought, but she was not often forthcoming with her praise. She wasn't sure why, exactly, but she had always abstained from telling him just _how_ much the sight of him left her weak at the knees, out of fear that he would laugh, or find her forwardness somehow uncomfortable. As drunk as she was, however, such fears were the furthest thing from her mind, and she soon found herself confessing her desires into the night.

"I like the way his muscles move… they're just so damn _big,_ and warm, and nice…"

She tightened her hands in the sheets as she imagined running her hands over Varian's chest, and a warmth entirely unrelated to her drunkenness rose in her belly.

"Oh! And his arms! I love those, too…"

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm," she whispered, scrunching up her nose in a futile attempt to hide her blush. "But… you can't… you can't tell Varian that. Can't have him getting cocky…"

"Oh, of course not," the deep voice rumbled.

Auriana thought she heard someone bark out a laugh, though in her current state, she couldn't really tell. She certainly didn't _think_ she said had said anything amusing...

"You really promise not to tell?" she asked worriedly.

"I swear to you, your secret is safe," came the quick reply. "Though perhaps you could answer a question for me…?"

"Anything..." Auriana mumbled, yawning and stretching out her toes beneath the furs.

"Are you certain about marrying m… ah… Varian... tomorrow? Truly certain?"

Auriana certainly had not been expecting quite so serious a question, but even through her haze, she sensed that her answer was somehow very important.

"More… more certain than I've ever been about _anything_ ," she murmured, without hesitation. "Anything at all. Varian… my Varian… couldn't stop loving him if I tried. He's... "

Auriana trailed off as her focus wavered once more, and stars danced before her eyes.

"Yes?" the deep voice asked urgently. "Come on, Auri, stay with me for a second..."

"S'my whole world. I _love_ him. Wish he knew just how much," she rambled drowsily. "I'm not good at it."

"Not good at what?"

"Telling him how I feel," she mumbled, the last vestiges of her concentration rapidly waning. "M'afraid, sometimes. Even after everything. All the things we've been through. What if… what if I love him more than he loves me? Can't lose him… can't live without him…"

The enormous figure above her growled deep in his throat, and a moment later, Auriana felt the brush of tender lips across her forehead.

"Hush. Something tells me he knows exactly how you feel. And that he loves you just as much… that he loves you more than anything..."

There was something odd about his voice now, though Auriana couldn't quite fathom why it had changed. It was somehow even deeper, and had grown rich and husky; now almost ragged in its timbre. It _almost_ sounded to her as someone fighting back a great upswell of emotion, perhaps even tears, but she quickly dismissed the thought as another drunken fancy.

"Get some rest," the figure added, brushing her cheek with a calloused thumb. "It's a big day tomorrow."

"Mmm… big day..." Auriana agreed, and with a soft sigh, her entire body went limp as she finally surrendered to the siren call of a deep and dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter Eight

**So, we're finally here! This chapter has been about three years in the making, and while I certainly had** _ **no**_ **idea this was where this story would end up, I'm really glad it did. For everyone who loves Varian and Auri as much as I do; for anyone who has ever shipped them or considers them an OTP; for everyone who sent me very sweet (and kind of vaguely threatening) messages to ensure that I wouldn't ruin the wedding… this one's for you. XD**

 **Anduin**

Anduin awoke in the late morning, finally roused from his deep and satisfying slumber by the pale sunlight streaming in through his bedroom window. It was chilly, as this time of year in Stormwind always was, and he took a few moments to relish the warmth and simple comfort of his blankets. Today was not a day to laze around in bed, however, and Anduin sat bolt upright as the weight of realisation struck him.

 _The wedding._

The ceremony itself was scheduled for later that afternoon, with a grand dinner reception to be held soon after. As the Crown Prince, Anduin was of course expected to attend all official events, though Varian had gone one step further and had asked Anduin stand at his side during the ceremony as his best man. Anduin had been both sincerely touched and honoured by Varian's request, though in truth, he was a little surprised to have been asked. He had not said as much to his father, of course, but privately he had wondered whether Varian would choose Broll Bearmantle or Genn Greymane instead. They were both older, more distinguished, and more experienced men, and yet in the end Varian had insisted that he would accept no one else save for his only son.

Anduin considered it a great responsibility to have been chosen, and while he had slept in longer than he had intended, he was determined not to be late. He sent for a servant to fetch him a quick breakfast, before he drew a bath and scrubbed himself as clean as one human could possibly get. He had laid out his formal dress the previous night, and as soon as he was dry, he set about pulling on his soft, neatly pressed breeches and finely stitched blue and gold tunic.

He could have called for his manservant to help him dress, of course, but in the end he decided he preferred the solitude. It was an important day, and while he was undoubtedly excited, he was also undeniably nervous. Trouble had a way of following Auriana and his father around, and it was usually quite spectacular trouble more often than not. Anduin was naturally determined to protect them, and give them the day they both so desperately deserved, but he wondered whether such a thing might be far easier said than done.

Anduin finished lacing his boots and turned toward the mirror, twisting his body from side to side as he studied his reflection. He had grown both upwards and outwards over the past few years, though it was only in the past few months that he felt he had truly shed the last vestiges of boyishness. He would never be as big a man as father - though in fairness, few men who had ever lived would grow to be as big as his father - but he was no longer quite so lanky as he had once been. No longer quite so _skinny_.

Anduin had taken Auriana very seriously when she had suggested that his body must be as strong as his mind, and while they had only found the time to train sporadically since her return from Draenor, he had pursued his own exercise routine ever since. He had done so out of a desire to be the best priest and prince that he could be, and not because he had some secret desire to become the burliest man in Stormwind... though he admittedly found it nice to have properly filled out a tunic for a change.

 _Still can't grow a beard, though_ , he thought ruefully.

Anduin ran a hand over the smooth, bare skin of his chin, and stretched out his shoulder muscles beneath his golden epaulettes. He was not usually quite so vain, but he today was one of those days where he would be expected to look his best, and he had no intention of being a disappointment. He made a few last minute adjustments, tightening his belt and smoothing down his hair, and all in all, he thought he looked rather princely and smart... even if he wouldn't quite go as far to call himself _handsome_.

It was of the utmost importance that the ceremony went well, Anduin thought, as he paused to collect two very special pieces of jewellery from a secret compartment in his dresser. While Varian was undoubtedly the bravest man that Andin had ever met, he also knew that nothing terrified him more than Auriana. Not because he was actually afraid _of_ her, of course, but rather that he might lose her in the same way that he had lost Anduin's mother. Unfortunately. there was little Anduin could do about assassins or demons or whoever else foolishly decided to threaten Auriana's life, but he _could_ ease at least some of his father's worries by playing his part.

Anduin had earlier resolved to visit both Auriana and his father before the ceremony, though as he stepped out of his rooms and into the hall, he was distracted by the sight of a different dark-haired figure disappearing around the corner in front of him.

"Tess! Hey!"

Anduin loped a few steps forward, only to nearly collide with the Princess of Gilneas around the corner as she backtracked to heed his call. He instinctively reached out to steady her, and immediately flushed red as his hands came to rest upon the curve of her trim waist. She wore a well-cut, dress of soft, dusky pink, and her hair was bound with exquisite ivory flowers. Tess typically preferred the dark, muted colours favoured by her people, and it was a rare and pleasant change to see her in something more colourful. If Anduin hadn't known any better, he would have thought her to be the perfect, pretty picture of a demure princess - except for the decidedly wicked gleam in her eyes.

"Good morning, my Prince," she smirked, her brows twitching in amusement as she stared pointedly down at his hands.

Anduin coughed awkwardly, and stepped back.

"Er… sorry…" he mumbled.

"Sure you are. I can't stay long, you know, I was just on my way to help Father," Tess added, holding up a dark burgundy necktie for him to see. "Mother will have a fit if he's not properly dressed, or if one of us is late to the ceremony."

"I won't keep you. I was just on my way to see _my_ father, actually," Anduin explained.

"Aren't his chambers down there?" Tess asked, pointing back over Anduin's shoulder.

"Father gave them up for Auriana. He's downstairs, in the ambassador's wing," he explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm going the same way. You can escort me," Tess resolved.

She held out her arm to him, and together they fell into a swift lockstep down the corridor.

"Did you have fun last night?" Anduin asked.

"So much fun," Tess gushed. "Auri is surprisingly entertaining when she gets going."

Anduin snorted as he tried to imagine a drunken Auriana, though he found it a rather difficult thing to picture.

"And how many drinks did that take?" he wondered.

"I lost count," Tess admitted, "Though it didn't help that Aysa gave her some sort of Pandaren tea that made her all relaxed and sort of… weird."

"Wait - you _drugged_ her?" Anduin spluttered, incredulous.

"Only a little bit!" Tess protested. "She's so darned small, Aysa miscalculated her tolerance. Honestly, how your father doesn't crush her to death is quite beyond me."

She giggled.

"We convinced her dance in front of the entire tavern, you know. If she ever wanted a change of vocation, she'd make some good money as a dancer. The Pandaren tavern certainly thought she put on quite the show..."

"Tess…" Anduin growled, "I told you not to let things get out of hand..."

He had been very explicit in his instructions that Tess was not to put Auriana in any situation that might cause her harm or embarrassment, but it seemed that she listened to him about as well as she listened to anyone else. Which was to say - not at all.

"Thing were perfectly well in hand, I promise you!" Tess declared, with an exaggerated roll of if her eyes. "And she definitely had fun, which is what you wanted, was it not?"

"Still…"

"Still _nothing_ , Anduin Wrynn. She's perfectly well, and her dignity is intact," Tess insisted, waving his concerns away with a flick of her wrist. "I will say this, though, she needs to learn to control that blush. Goes as red as a Gilnean rose at the slightest provocation..."

Anduin knew exactly the kind of blush Tess was talking about, and despite his reservations, he couldn't help but to return her beaming smile. The moment was short-lived however, as Anduin realised they were now standing near the door of Varian's co-opted dressing room.

"Well, this is me," he said, gently disentangling Tess' arm from his own. "I'll see you later? At the reception?"

He had expected Tess to respond in the affirmative, but she instead she sighed theatrically and shook her head.

"Anduin," she huffed, "Didn't your father teach you any manners?"

"What?" he exclaimed, thoroughly bewildered.

"When a lady dresses up for a formal occasion, you are _supposed_ to pay her a compliment," she explained, twirling her skirts for him to emphasise her point. "Certainly, you ought to do so before you abandon her to walk the halls of your Keep alone."

"Oh! Um… Tess…?"

"Yes, my Prince?" she asked, somehow making her eyes appear impossibly wide and innocent.

"You look very pretty," he said, trying not to sound as awkward and flustered as he felt.

She broke into a wide smile, and gave Anduin a sly little wink that made him flush from his cheeks to his hairline.

"I know," she said blithely, reaching up to give him a teasing pat on the cheek before she sauntered off down the corridor.

Anduin stared after her retreating form in disbelief, before he shook himself hard and turned to face the door to Varian's makeshift quarters. As he had explained to Tess, Varian had given use of his chambers over to Auriana for her preparations, so that she might feel more comfortable, and had instead set himself up in one of the rooms usually reserved for visiting dignitaries or guests of the Keep.

Two royal guardsmen stood watch outside, and their expressions were enough to give Anduin pause. There was a very particular look common amongst the guards and servants of Stormwind Keep whenever Varian was in an especially churlish mood, and it seemed that today was no exception. Anduin _had_ wondered how his father would hold up now that the day of the wedding had actually arrived, and he was both amused by and sympathetic to Varian's consternation.

"Hello," he said brightly. "I take it my father is in?"

"Yes, Prince Anduin," the taller of the two guards confirmed. "Though I ought to warn you, he's a little… er… _tense_."

The guards exchanged a pointed look, and Anduin was forced to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," he said, grinning, "Though I appreciate the warning."

The taller guardsman looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead opened the door with some reluctance, and allowed Anduin to quietly slip inside. He could not see his father properly at first, obscured as Varian was by the large four poster bed at the centre of the room, but he could certainly _hear_ that unmistakable, bellowing voice.

"Falster! If you try to make me wear that ridiculous cravat one more time, I swear I will _personally_ drag you out to the Stockades and have you drawn and quartered!"

"Afternoon, Father," Anduin said drily, leaning up against the bedpost and folding his arms across his chest.

Varian turned and stepped fully into view, and his furious countenance deflated slightly as he locked eyes with his only son.

"Oh. Anduin. Hello."

He cleared his throat, and scratched awkwardly at the persistent stubble that peppered his chin.

"I thought… you were someone else…" he grunted.

"Clearly."

Anduin studied his father closely. Unlike Anduin himself, Varian had chosen not to wear a formal tunic, but rather his distinctive heavy plate. The armour had been polished to a high sheen, so much so that Anduin could practically use it as a mirror, and someone had scrubbed his hair so clean that it was almost as reflective as the pauldrons. Varian _had_ made some concessions to the formality of the occasion, such as a heavy blue cloak and his rarely used crown, but overall he looked just as likely to charge into battle as he did to walk down the aisle.

"You're wearing armour? Really?" Anduin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Varian looked down, and fiddled distractedly with one of his gauntlets.

"Something wrong with my armour?"

"I suppose not," Anduin conceded, "Though it _does_ seem a bit odd that you would dress to marry the woman you love the same way you would dress to fight demons..."

"This is who I am. She knows that," Varian said stiffly. "Besides, I had it cleaned."

"Oh, well, as long as you had it _cleaned_..." Anduin murmured.

"What was that?" Varian asked sharply, looking back at his son with a wary expression.

"Ah, nothing important," Anduin said quickly, with a brief wave of his hand. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Varian huffed, a little _too_ quickly. "Except for this damn sash."

He held up a thick blue sash embroidered with golden thread; an exact copy of the one that Anduin himself wore. It was supposed to be a symbol of their office as rulers of Stormwind, but it seemed Varian was having a rather difficult time getting it on over his armour. Of course, it didn't help that he was not being especially delicate in his attempts to pull it on over his head, and Anduin quickly stepped forward to assist.

"Here. Let me," he offered.

"No, Anduin..." Varian growled.

He seemed determined to dress himself, despite the difficulty presented by his enormous pauldrons, and soon father and son were embroiled in an awkward tug of war over the sash as Anduin tried his best to help, and Varian tried his best to be obstinate.

"Don't be recalcitrant, Father!"

"Anduin! Stop _fussing_ ; if I move it _here_..."

"It's caught on the beak! Why is your armour so _complex_?!"

"Bloody hell, Anduin, would you just…"

"Stop _fidgeting_ , Father, you're only making it worse..."

Anduin reached up to unhook the sash from where it had hooked on Varian's right shoulderplate, while at the same time Varian twisted his body hard to the left in an attempt to work himself free. Unfortunately, the net result of Varian's movement was that he pulled the sash one way while Anduin twisted it the other, and with a sharp _rip_ , together they tore it clean in two. Anduin's eyes widened, and for a moment they simply stared at the frayed blue fragments of fabric now lying sadly on the floor between them.

"Well, that solves that problem, at least..." Varian said finally.

He stepped over the tattered fabric, and turned his full attention back to the mirror. Unsurprisingly, he did not seem overly concerned about the loss off the sash, though there was most definitely something else bothering him. Anduin watched his father closely as he unbuckled and buckled his breastplate no less than four times, scowling fiercely at his reflection the entire time. Varian was admittedly intolerant of formal occasions, even at the best of times, but this was something else. He would never outwardly say as much, of course, but between the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow of his forehead, and the downward twist of his lips...

"You _are_ nervous," Anduin realised.

"Don't be ridiculous," Varian snarled. "I'm not nervous. I'm Varian Wrynn. I don't get _nervous."_

He might have almost been convincing, if not for the way that his fingers slipped on the catch of his plate as he spoke, or the fact that his mighty shoulders were as rigid as the stone wall behind him.

"Father. Nothing is going to happen," Anduin said gently, assuming that Varian's concerns were centred around the spate of assassins that had plagued them over the last year. "There's practically a guard per square foot out in the city. The Keep and the Cathedral are almost as magically fortified as Dalaran, now, thanks to Aunt Jaina and Kalecgos; not to mention that your guest list consists of all the most powerful warriors and spellcasters in the Alliance."

He was quite confident in his assessment, trusting his dear friends and allies to keep them safe for the duration of the ceremony, but it seemed that Varian did not agree. His dark scowl deepened even further at Anduin's words, and he struggled within himself for quite some time before he finally turned and spoke.

"It's not that," he muttered. "It's... her."

"Auri?" Anduin asked, surprised.

Varian took a deep breath, and grimaced as if he were in physical pain.

"What... what if she can't go through with the wedding?"

His voice was quiet and throaty, and Anduin immediately softened at the raw, seething concern in his eyes. Varian was so rarely vulnerable, and while Anduin loved to tease him, he certainly took no joy in doing so when his father was genuinely uneasy.

"Father… Auri loves you," he said seriously.

"I know," Varian said quietly, a brief lightness flickering across his otherwise stern features, "But this morning she would have woken up to _that_ …"

He stalked over to the window and pushed it open, and the room was immediately filled with a cacophony of sound echoing up from the city below. Even though the ceremony was not scheduled to start for another two hours, the streets were already packed with vocal Alliance citizens queuing to see a glimpse of their new Queen. Stormwind's merchants had taken full advantage of the day to hawk their wares, while all manner of horns and other musical instruments blared out over the general din.

"What if it's all too much?" Varian asked, shaking his head. "I know she loves _me_ , but… a crown is a hard thing to love."

"Would it help if I went to speak to her?" Anduin offered, not quite knowing what else to say. "I could check if she's alright?"

"You would do that?" Varian asked.

He closed the window, and a restless silence fell across the room once more.

"Of course," Anduin said quickly. "I had intended to visit her in any case."

"Hopefully she doesn't have a headache. She was rather spectacularly drunk when she returned home last night," Varian snorted. "I had to carry her to bed, she could barely walk."

Anduin flushed, suddenly unable to look his father in the eye, and pulled idly at a thread on his cuffs.

"Ah… that may have been _slightly_ my fault…" he said sheepishly.

" _You_?" Varian asked, cocking an eyebrow. "I though it was Tess Greymane's idea."

"Not exactly," Anduin confessed. "I suggested to Tess that Auri might like a night out of the city to relax, and Tess sort of… ran with it. As Tess does."

Varian grunted softly and scratched at his chin, and for a moment Anduin couldn't tell if whether or not he was displeased. He had not intended for any harm to come to Auriana - far from it - though he could understand why his father might have thought his idea ill-advised.

"I only wanted her to enjoy herself. You know how serious she can be, and it's her wedding… she ought to be happy," he said quickly, not wanting Varian to think poorly of him.

"Oh, I think she enjoyed herself _plenty_ , don't you worry."

Varian shook his head, and his stern expression softened in a way that it only did when he was thinking of Auriana. Some of the tension in his jawline released, and the ghost of a smile pulled briefly at his lips.

"Funny little thing…"

His gaze flicked toward the window, and he let out a long, shaking sigh.

"I would appreciate if you would go to her," he concluded. "I'm not permitted to see my own damn bride, apparently, so you will have to do."

"Of course," Anduin assured him quickly. "I'll speak to her. And I'm sure she's just fine."

He offered his father his most reassuring smile, but Varian did not seem convinced. He did not say anything further, however, and Anduin took his abrupt silence as a not-so-subtle hint to leave.

Varian continued to stare broodingly into the mirror as Anduin slipped quietly from the room, and made his way off down the corridor to find Auriana. He walked swiftly, the clack of his boots echoing off the grey stone walls, and in no time at all, he found himself standing outside Varian's personal chambers. The guards permitted him entrance immediately, and he entered the study to find Jaina and Khadgar conversing quietly over a glass of wine. Three of Auriana's ladies maids lined were lined up dutifully along the back wall, though Anduin wasn't sure why they were all out here, instead of attending to Auriana. Khadgar was dressed as finely as Anduin had ever seen him, in crisply pressed robes of silver and navy, while Jaina was lovely as ever in a flowing dress of periwinkle blue. As Auriana's escort and attendant, respectively, they would accompany her to the Cathedral and down the aisle, and Anduin _was_ glad to know that she would not have to face the entire city alone.

He coughed lightly to announce his presence, and the two senior Archmagi broke into broad smiles as they turned to face him.

"Anduin!" Jaina exclaimed brightly. "How are you?"

"Very well, Aunt Jaina, thank you," he replied, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello there, Prince Anduin," Khadgar said, raising his glass of wine in greeting. "Fine day for a wedding, eh?"

"Hello, Khadgar," Anduin said, returning the older Archmage's grin. "A very fine day, indeed."

"Speaking of which, how is your father?" Jaina asked, an all-too knowing gleam in her eye.

"Ah… well, if it were anyone else I would say 'terrified'," Anduin admitted, "But as it _is_ my father, I think I'll settle for… um... fretful?"

"That bad, hmm?" Jaina mused. "I did wonder…"

"Is he expecting some sort of attack?" Khadgar asked. "I assure you, Anduin, we would not allow any harm to come to Auriana. Or to anyone else, for that matter."

Khadgar was generally such a genial and friendly man that it was sometimes easy to forget that he was one of the most powerful mages who had ever lived. His voice may have been kind, but his eyes were as hard as steel, and Anduin sincerely pitied anyone so foolish as to risk rousing his genuine ire.

"Nothing like that," he assured them. "I believe his concern lies primarily with Auriana. That's why I'm here, actually."

Khadgar and Jaina exchanged a look, and Anduin realised that they, too, shared some of Varian's disquiet. He knew that Auriana had struggled greatly with the prospect of becoming queen, and while he did not question her love for his father, he also knew that Varian's concerns about her flightiness were not entirely unfounded. It was no small thing stand at the side of a High King, and while Anduin could not blame Auriana for being nervous, he also wondered if his father might be right, and whether finally coming face to face with the true reality of her new life would prove to be overwhelming.

"How is she?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Better than I expected," Jaina said. "Especially after last night."

"She's in there?" Anduin said, nodding to the wooden door that lead to Varian's innermost chamber.

"She wanted a moment alone," Khadgar explained. "Asked us to step outside."

"Is that a bad sign?" Anduin wondered, half-imagining Auriana climbing out the window and down the Keep walls on a rope made entirely of bedsheets.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ whispered a small and decidedly unhelpful voice in the back of his mind. _If she_ were _going to run, she would just open a portal to Light knows where, and you'd never see her again..._

Anduin looked worriedly between the two Archmages, but Jaina quelled his immediate fears with a short shake of her head.

"To tell you the truth… I'm not sure. She's nervous, I think, but she _was_ excited. And then there's the dress…"

Jaina smiled thoughtfully to herself, and shrugged her slender shoulders.

"I can't say _I_ would be in any particular hurry to abscond if I were wearing something like that."

"It's pretty?"

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" Jaina suggested, gesturing towards the door. "I'm sure she would appreciate seeing you."

Anduin wasn't quite so sure, given that Auriana had already asked the others to leave, but he _had_ made a promise to his father, and with some gentle prodding from Jaina, he finally stepped through the door and into Varian's bedchamber proper.

The first thing Anduin realised was that Auriana was not _entirely_ alone; her bodyguard Ridley having taken up a silent vigil in a back corner, with her hand resting casually on the pommel of her sword. Her warplate had been polished to within an inch of its life, and she wore a freshly pressed blue tabard embroidered with a mighty golden lion. Ridley bowed slightly in acknowledgement as she caught sight of Anduin in the doorway, though her attention remained firmly fixed on the pale, slender figure standing on a mirrored dais in the centre of the room.

The second thing Anduin realised was that Jaina had been right, and that Auriana was wearing possibly the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. Somewhat surprisingly, the gown left her shoulders and back largely bare; with delicate, airy swathes of fabric encircling her upper arms and twisting back around to come together in an elegant bow in the centre of her back. Her scar was nonetheless obscured by cascades of her dark hair; the top half of which had had been bound up in an elaborate and seemingly impossible knot, while the rest had been gently curled and left to trail down her back like a river. Her ethereal, silky skirts were long and full, flaring out into a wide train, and as Anduin grew closer, he realised that the entire length of the hem had been embroidered with tiny, pearlescent flowers.

Anduin caught sight of Auriana's face in her reflection as he stepped forward, and her eyes widened as she realised she was no longer alone. Fortunately, she did not seem displeased by Anduin's sudden presence, and she turned around very carefully to face him. The front of her dress was quite as lovely as the back, the top of her bodice having been embroidered in a similar fashion to the hem of her skirts; while a fine, filigree tiara glittered against her dark hair.

In short, she looked quite simply radiant, and for a moment Anduin found himself rather speechless.

"Auri… I… you look… _wow_..." he managed, trying his hardest not to blush.

"Is that… I mean... it's alright?" she asked, looking down at her skirts and smoothing them anxiously. "I know it's not something I would usually wear, but…"

"More than alright," Anduin assured her quickly. "Father's heart is going to stop in his chest when he sees you."

"That doesn't sound so good…"

"Well, he's starting to get on in years. The sight of such a beautiful woman might be too much for him," Anduin said, shrugging.

Auriana's nose twitched, though she seemed unsure as to whether or not he was teasing.

"One of the perils of marrying an older man, I suppose," Anduin continued, trying to make her smile. "They just can't keep up…"

"Anduin! Stop it!" she giggled.

Just as Anduin had hoped, she broke into a wide grin, and a pretty blush rose in her silvery cheeks. He was pleased to see that she was not nearly as nervous as he had anticipated, though he expected that might change as the hour of the ceremony grew closer. Still, she was _here_ , at least, and as far as Anduin was concerned, that was all that mattered.

"All jokes aside though, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Anduin said honestly. "That dress is... stunning. I'm not sure I could find the right words to do you justice."

Auriana turned back to the mirror, and tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. Her expression was slightly critical as she stared at her reflection, though he could tell that the compliment had pleased her. She stood a little taller, a little more confident, and Anduin thought he saw a very small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"I heard you had a bit of fun last night," he added teasingly, taking a seat upon the edge of her bed as he watched her fiddle with her hair.

"I heard it was your idea," Auriana shot back, never taking her eyes off the mirror.

"How did you…" Anduin started, only to realise immediately that there was only one person who could have given the game away. " _Tess_. Of course. That girl can't keep her mouth shut."

"I think she wanted to make sure I knew who to blame in the event that things didn't quite work out as she had planned," Auriana explained.

"Ah… _did_ things go as planned?"

Auriana turned to look back at him over her shoulder, and her sharp blue eyes narrowed. Anduin stiffened, unsure whether she was displeased by his meddling. He had meant well, and he had only sought to give her the chance to relax and enjoy herself ahead of the wedding. It was very important to him that today went well, both for his father's sake, and for his own, and he would do anything he could to see that Auriana was as calm and happy as possible. Nevertheless, he understood that she may not have appreciated being manipulated, and he opened his mouth to speak in his defense.

"If the plan was to get me blindingly drunk, then… yes, I think the plan succeeded," Auriana confirmed, gently cutting Anduin off before he could speak.

Her lips quivered, and it was then Anduin realised that she was trying not to laugh.

" _And_ … if I'm being honest, I may have actually enjoyed myself. Perhaps. Just a little," she added, her eyes sparkling.

Anduin let out a short sigh of relief, and his shoulders relaxed. He did not wish for Auriana to be vexed with him, and if she had genuinely enjoyed herself, all the better.

"It's a miracle!" he grinned. "Father did say you were _very_ drunk."

Auriana bit her lip, and frowned ever so slightly.

"I think he and I spoke last night, but I honestly can't remember. Was he mad?" she asked nervously.

"No, of course not. Actually, I think he found it all rather amusing," Anduin assured her quickly. "Although… how's your head?"

"The royal alchemist is very good at his job," Auriana said, touching a hand to her temple. "And I slept in quite late. The tailor was _very_ vexed with me."

Oddly enough, she seemed rather pleased to have annoyed the tailor, though Anduin couldn't have said why.

"Tess said you danced, too. As I understand it, you were quite impressive," he added.

"Well, she's very kind. Though I don't think I ought to leave the Kirin Tor to start a new career in… tavern shenanigans," Auriana snorted.

"Not when you've about to start a new career as Queen of Stormwind, in any case," Anduin agreed, nodding towards her dress.

He had spoken casually enough, but Auriana was far too clever not to have noticed the subtle question hinted beneath his words. She glanced down at the flowing, weightless silk of her skirts, and the amusement slowly faded from her eyes. She did not appear as apprehensive as she once might have, however, but merely thoughtful and solemn as she twisted the ring upon her left hand and brushed her thumb gently across the shining mithril and sapphires.

"I was never going to run away, you know. Not this time," she whispered, her eyes so big and so blue as to put the sea and sky to shame. "I swear to you, I would never break his heart."

It was clearly very important to her that she was believed, and Anduin immediately rose to his feet and stepped up onto the dais at her side.

"I know," he said gently, closing his fingers over her own. "But it's hard not to worry about you sometimes. I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just want you to be happy."

Auriana's hand was so small that it all but disappeared in his own, and yet there was a decided strength in her grip as she laced her fingers with his. She was not one usually prone to open displays of affection, excepting perhaps in the case of his father, and yet today she did not hesitate as she lifted Anduin's hand and pressed a gentle kiss against his knuckles. Something had changed between them since their misadventures in the Duskwood; ever since she had shown her willingness to die for him, and he to kill for her, and Anduin knew then that regardless of what happened in the ceremony today, they were already family.

They stood together in warm silence for a long time, until they were interrupted by the quiet, polite cough of one of Auriana's maidservants.

"Pardon me, my lady," the girl said quietly, "But you have a visitor."

Auriana released Anduin's hand and turned, her skirts swirling around her ankles like running water.

"A visitor?" she asked, her eyes flicking towards the door.

"A Master Aysa Cloudsinger, my lady. Should I send her in?"

Auriana exchanged a glance with Anduin, though he had no idea why the Pandaren master would wish to visit so soon before the ceremony, and he shrugged.

"Aysa? Ah… of course…" Auriana agreed, with a small wave of her hand.

The maidservant nodded and turned back to the door, and quickly ushered Aysa inside. She wore a figure-hugging, high-necked dress of magnificent dark jade, embroidered with all four of the Celestials in bright golden thread, and her tufted ears were decorated with an elaborate metallic headpiece. It was quite unlike anything Anduin had ever seen the young monk wear before, and he thought she looked very pretty. He smiled.

"Hello, Auriana," Aysa smiled, bowing respectfully before the dias. "And you, Prince Anduin. I did not expect to see you here."

She stepped further into the room, and her eyes widened in appreciation as she beheld the full majesty of Auriana's dress.

"Auriana... you are most beautiful," she breathed. "That dress is truly stunning… and very _white…_ "

Auriana ducked her head and laughed, though once again Anduin did not understand the significance of the statement. Aysa, however, seemed to think it very funny, and the two women shared a brief chuckle before Auriana spoke.

"How can we be of assistance?" she asked.

"Ah - I have a message for you, along with... a package," Aysa explained.

She withdrew a long wooden box from behind her back, and offered it up to Auriana.

"You know that I am very... close... with Master Ji Firepaw, yes?" she asked, her soft ears twitching. "Well, as I am sure you also know, Ji and the rest of Huojin Pandaren chose to ally with the Horde. He sent word to me this morning that one of those allies wished to contact you."

"Me?" Auriana exclaimed, taking the small box from Aysa with a curious expression. " _Today_?"

"Yes. Apparently it was most important that it was today," Aysa confirmed. "I believe it may be a wedding gift."

Anduin was not at all surprised to learn that the Horde knew of the royal wedding. Of course, it wasn't as if it were any great secret, though he _did_ find it somewhat strange and unexpected that they would think to mark the date with a gift. Ridley evidently agreed with him, too, judging from the speed with which she moved to Auriana's side.

"Ah... my lady... are you certain this is not some Horde trick?" she asked, touching a hand to her sword. "There could be something dangerous in that box."

Auriana, however, did not appear to agree with her bodyguard's sentiment.

"It's not dangerous, Ridley," she said confidently, shaking her head with an amused smile. "It's most definitely a gift."

She held up the box and pointed to a crude icon carved into the wood; what appeared to be a roughly diamond shaped mask stuck through by two long spears. Anduin couldn't quite place the symbol, but apparently it meant something to Auriana.

"Are you sure?" Ridley pressed. "If it's from the _Horde_..."

"Well, it's not a gift on behalf of the _entire_ Horde, I don't think, just one of them in particular," Auriana explained. "And certainly not one who seeks to cause me harm."

"Ji would not have offered to relay the package if he believed it to be dangerous," Aysa agreed. "Of this I am certain."

"Everything is fine, Ridley, I promise you."

Auriana waved her anxious guard to stand down, and carefully pried open the wooden box, as Anduin peered curiously over her shoulder. Nestled inside was an unlabeled bottle of some dark purple liquor, as well as a strange object made of carved wood, bright feathers, and what appeared to be some kind of animal tooth. Anduin was hardly an expert in troll religious iconography, of course, but he had seen similar charms before. It was a fetish; albeit one that had been rendered in Alliance blue and gold instead of more traditional colours. He knew they were believed to hold magical properties, and could be used to work both blessings and curses. This one, he assumed, had been made to offer Auriana some kind of blessing, though whether it was intended to give her protection or good fortune or something else entirely, he couldn't have rightly said.

"Cheeky bloody troll…" Auriana murmured, withdrawing a small piece of folded parchment from beneath the curve of the liquor bottle.

She flipped open the parchment, and a warm smile spread across her face as she read the short note scribbled within.

"Who is it from?" Anduin asked curiously.

Auriana did not reply directly, but instead handed him the parchment so that he might read the inscription for himself. The handwriting was large and rather crude, as if the author were unused to writing letters in Common, but there was no mistaking the message.

 _May the_ loa _watch over you, little lion._

 _Stormwind could not ask for a better queen._

 _-Z_

 _P.S. Tell Wrynn he better treat you right, or else he'll answer to the Darkspear. My Warchief agrees._

"It's from Zala'din, isn't it?" Anduin realised, grinning. "Your troll friend from Draenor? Er… he's not serious about the Darkspear thing, is he?"

He had not met the troll before, Auriana having refused to allow him to accompany her when he might have had the opportunity, though he knew Zala'din had saved Auriana's life on more than one occasion, and had been instrumental in securing victory in Draenor. Very unusually for a troll and a human, Zala'din and Auriana had also become good friends; apparently so much so that Zala'din was willing to exploit diplomatic channels to offer her his congratulations.

Fortunately, his efforts appeared to have payed off. Auriana looked genuinely touched, and her blue eyes grew oddly misty as she ran her fingers appreciatively across one of the fetish's brilliant blue feathers.

"Yes, he is my friend…" she murmured, "And no, I doubt he's serious. Trolls have an odd sense of humour."

"Should we drink to your good health, my lady?" Ridley asked, nodding towards the bottle.

Anduin was also very eager to try the troll liquor, wondering how it might differ from the wine and beer he might normally drink in Stormwind, but Auriana did not seem to agree. She shook her head, and scrunched up her nose in evident distaste.

"Oh, no. I'm not touching that stuff again," she said vehemently. "I have to kiss Varian later, and I would rather not have him gag."

"It's that bad?" Anduin laughed.

"This is not the first time Zala'din has gifted me some of his troll moonshine. From memory, it tastes like the leather of a dead tauren left to rot in the sun for three days," Auriana confirmed. "Though you're quite welcome to try it if you like."

She held out the bottle towards him and swirled the dark liquid around, her eyes sparkling with challenge. For a moment, Anduin considered taking her up on the offer, but in the end his sense of caution won out over his curiosity.

"Ah… perhaps not _right_ before the wedding," he conceded. "Can't have the Crown Prince getting sick in the middle of the ceremony, after all."

"No?" Auriana asked, cocking a playful eyebrow. "What about you, then, Ridley? It _was_ your idea, after all..."

Ridley eyed the bottle cautiously, but unlike Anduin, she eventually accepted the proffered liquor from her mistress with a confident nod. She popped the cork and lifted the bottle in a toast, but the very moment the troll brew hit her lips, her self-assuredness vanished and her face twisted into an expression of abject disgust.

"By all that is holy, that's _awful_ …" she choked, her cheeks colouring a blotchy red. "My lady…"

"You're welcome to use the bathchamber, of course," Auriana said smoothly, biting down on her lower lip to smother her laugh.

Ridley did not need to be asked twice, and she staggered out of the room with uncharacteristic gracelessness, clamping a hand over her mouth as she ran. She very nearly dropped the liquor bottle in her haste, but Auriana reached out to pluck it from the royal guard's fingertips before she disappeared.

"Aysa?" she offered, winking at Anduin as she held the bottle out toward the young Pandaren master.

"Sometimes the greatest wisdom is in choosing _not_ to fight," Aysa said serenely, her eyes sparkling as she glanced towards the bathchamber door. "I ought to be heading off to the ceremony, in any case. I only came to deliver your package, and I wouldn't want to be late."

Auriana's amused expression faded slightly at the mention of the now very imminent ceremony, and Anduin distinctly saw the lean muscles of her back tighten as her breath caught in her throat. Still, the movement was so small that he doubted anyone else would have noticed, and her voice was even as she spoke.

"Of course," she said. "I trust we will see you later at the reception?"

"I look forward to it," Aysa agreed.

The Pandaren master bowed low, before she turned and made her way to the door, and left Anduin and Auriana alone together once more. He watched her closely as she stepped down from the dais, marvelling at how she managed to move so gracefully in her dress. The train alone was longer than Anduin was tall, and yet it did not seem to hamper Auriana in the slightest. She floated across the room to place her gifts from Zala'din on the dresser, when Anduin abruptly remembered that Varian's concerns were not the only reason he had sought Auriana out.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I almost forgot. I brought you something, too."

He patted down the pockets of his tunic, and dug around until he found the small, silver pendant he had crafted for her as a wedding gift.

"You'll have to forgive me, it isn't wrapped…"

Auriana's eyes were wide as she whirled to face him, though she didn't seem to care one whit for the fact that he had not found a suitable means of presenting his gift. Her lips were parted slightly in surprise, and she appeared mesmerised by the gentle sparkle of the pendant's chain.

"You didn't have to do that…" she whispered.

"I wanted to," Anduin insisted. "Here."

He stepped forward, and pressed the necklace into Auriana's pale palm. It was a simple thing, really, especially when compared to the elaborate jewels woven through her shining hair, but it had been made with love. Anduin had fashioned it to resemble the pendant that he himself wore to contain the everlasting snowflake that Auriana had once made for him, though hers was of a smaller and more delicate design. Below the silver chain dangled a small glass teardrop infused with captured Light summoned by Anduin's own hand, which gave the entire pendant a soft white-gold glow.

"I made it myself," he smiled proudly. "Took some doing, but I managed."

"It's like your snowflake…" Auriana whispered, cradling it between her fingers as if it was the most precious jewel in all the world.

"More or less, though yours is all Light. My skills in the arcane are somewhat lacking, unfortunately," Anduin smiled. "Think of it as a blessing you can wear. Something to keep you safe"

"I hadn't seen that pendant since… since after… after the F-Foundry," she murmured. "I didn't realise you still had it."

"Father returned it to me. I wear it every day."

To emphasise his point, Anduin reached into the neck of his tunic, and pulled out his own long chain for her to see. Auriana reached out to brush her fingers against the shining glass that held her snowflake, and her lips drew into a small half-smile.

"I promise you, I won't be a wicked stepmother," she said quietly.

"You're many things, Auri, but you're not wicked," Anduin assured her.

"Tell me that again after I've ordered you to bed with nothing more than a stomachful of cold gruel, or turned you into a frog or something," she snorted, waggling her fingers as if she intended to hex him.

"You've been reading too many fairy tales," Anduin laughed. "Allow me?"

He closed his hand gently over Auriana's shoulder and turned her away, so that he might loop the chain around her neck. His fingers brushed against the top of her scar as he pushed her hair out of the way, and yet surprisingly, she did not flinch as he secured the clasp.

"It's beautiful," Auriana whispered, touching a hand to where the golden pendant came to rest nestled in the curve of her breast. "Thank you… I… well, just… _thank you_."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you, actually," Anduin confessed. "The day we made my pendant… that was the day I realised how truly special you were. Thank you for loving him, and for giving me the kind of father I never thought I would know."

He felt a bit awkward, expressing himself so plainly to someone who so rarely showed emotion, but it seemed that he had said exactly the right thing. To his complete and utter shock, Auriana abruptly spun and threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him against her body with a desperate strength that belied her small stature. In truth, Anduin could scarcely breathe, but such an embrace from Auriana was such a rare and precious thing that he had no intention of letting her go before she was well and truly ready.

"I'm sorry," she said shyly, her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she finally pulled away. "I just…"

"No, no, it's fine," Anduin gasped, surprised but genuinely delighted by her sudden outpouring of emotion.

He gingerly rubbed his bruised ribs, even as he smiled, but before he could say anything further, he was interrupted by an indignant cry from the doorway.

"Anduin Wrynn!" Jaina tutted, shooing him away from Auriana with a flick of her wrist. "She was perfect, stop making her weepy!"

She put her hands on her hips, and her crystal blue eyes narrowed in mock seriousness.

"Do you know how _long_ it took to get her dressed? I won't have her kohl running because you decided you wanted to be sweet."

"Of course, Aunt Jaina," Anduin said smoothly. "Did I mention that you look quite lovely today, as well?"

He gave her his best and most winning smile, but unfortunately, Jaina was not the type of woman to be taken in by such an obvious attempt.

"When did you become so charming, hmm?" she snorted, rolling her eyes in clear amusement. "You certainly didn't get it from your father. And speaking of which - isn't it time you joined him for the ceremony?"

"I suppose it is," Anduin agreed.

He gave Auriana a last, reassuring smile as Jaina bustled him out of the room, and bid a quick farewell to Khadgar on his way past. As much as he would have liked to stay with Auriana a little longer, Jaina _was_ right about the time, and he hastened back through the Keep to find his father. Auriana would have Jaina and Khadgar to look after her and see her safely to the Cathedral, but Anduin's priority would once again be his father.

Anduin eventually found Varian pacing in front of his throne, his long cloak swirling about his ankles as he stomped back and forth across the smooth stone floor. He glanced up the moment Anduin entered the room, his preternatural senses alerting him to his son's presence sooner than Anduin would have thought possible, and his already sharp eyes grew even harder.

"How is she?" he demanded, folding his arms firmly across his massive barrel chest.

"Beautiful," Anduin said warmly, "And calmer than I expected. You don't have a thing to worry about, Father, not where she's concerned."

"Good," Varian said tersely, "That's good."

He did not go quite so far as to smile, but the tension in his shoulders lessened slightly as he led Anduin down through the Keep's great promenade and out to meet their waiting carriage. Hundreds of people were queued outside, and they roared with excitement to see their King and Prince up so close. If Anduin thought the streets had been loud from up in the Keep, however, it was nothing compared to the sheer _volume_ of the cheers that greeted the royal carriage as it slowly made its way through the cobbled streets of Stormwind. Every time the carriage turned a corner, it seemed as if the crowd somehow grew even louder, and Anduin suspected he may have been rendered half deaf by the time he and Varian made their way into the relative silence of the Cathedral.

Anduin knew that a royal wedding was a large and significant event, but he was quite unprepared for the number of guests waiting in attendance as he and his father stepped into the nave. The dignitaries from the other Alliance factions had all been given pride of place in the front rows, with every single member of the House of Nobles seated just behind. Sadly, neither Varian nor Auriana had any living family, save for Anduin, though their closest friends had been seated alongside the leaders of the Alliance. The rest of the seating was taken up by guests from all four corners of the Azeroth; everyone from military officers to mages, prominent guild leaders, merchants and clergy. All told, Anduin guessed there were at least five hundred people present, if not more, and he could not have believed that they would have all _fit_ inside the main hall of the Cathedral if he had not seen it with his own eyes.

The guests rose to their feet and bowed respectfully as Varian and Anduin slowly made their way up the aisle to stand before the altar. While undoubtedly more social than his irascible father, Anduin much preferred the company of a handful of people at a time compared to what felt like half of Stormwind, and he tried not to let his shoulders twitch as he imagined hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed upon his back. Fortunately, the walk from the nave to the altar did not take quite as long as he had expected, and he was quite simply pleased that he had managed to make it the entire way without tripping over his own feet.

High Priestess Laurena was waiting at the atlar, along with a half-dozen of Stormwind's highest ranking clergy members and none other than Prophet Velen himself. They were all dressed in their finest robes of office, and each bowed deeply before their King as Varian took his place on the altar's right hand side. Velen, however, also offered Anduin a brief, kindhearted wink, before he clasped his hands behind his back and resumed the look of calm, distant neutrality so often favoured by the priesthood.

The enormous crowd spoke animatedly amongst themselves as they awaited the arrival of the bride, though both Varian and Anduin remained silent. Anduin figured it was probably for the best, given the way that Varian was grinding his teeth, and he decided he was in no hurry to risk a conversation. After no more than ten minutes had passed, however, Varian began to fidget and tap his foot; and after twenty, he looked just about ready to go charging off into the city to find Auriana and _drag_ her back to the Cathedral.

"Where _is_ she?" he muttered.

"You saw the crowd outside," Anduin reasoned, trying to keep his voice calm and reassuring. "There are so many people wanting to see her, I'm sure her carriage is just delayed. I promise you, she wouldn't miss this. Not for anything."

Varian's uncomfortable scowl deepened, but with a supreme effort he shook some of the tension from his body, and ceased beating a nervous staccato with his foot.

"Anduin…" he murmured gruffly, though his gaze remained firmly fixed on some point in the distance, "I don't tell you this enough, but there is no one else I would rather have stand by my side today. You are a far better man than I could ever hope to be, and I am proud to call you my son."

"Father…"

Candid praise from Varian was rare, though all the more meaningful it, and for a moment Anduin found it difficult to speak. He knew that his father cared for him deeply, despite their differences, and yet he felt like an overeager young boy each and every time Varian managed to articulate his feelings aloud. Fortunately, he was spared the necessity of thinking of a coherent response, as the Cathedral bells suddenly pealed to announce the arrival of the bride.

Varian straightened immediately, and his eyes sharpened with the intensity of a wolf who had finally sighted prey. It was Ridley who was the first to appear, however, sweeping the Cathedral with a cautious eye before she stepped to the side and nodded to someone that Anduin couldn't see. There was an eager, breathless silence, and a few seconds later, Jaina emerged from the narthex and made her way down the aisle as smoothly and gracefully as if she had been born to it. She carried a posy of white flowers native to Stormwind and Elwynn Forest in her hands, and her smile was bright enough to light up the entire Cathedral.

If Jaina was beautiful, however, Auriana was quite simply exquisite. An awed and excited muttering broke out across the crowd as she began her solemn procession towards the altar, though Anduin's gaze was inexorably drawn toward his father. Varian had gone very still, almost impossibly so, and his breath distinctly hitched in his chest as he stared down the aisle at the woman he loved. He appeared utterly hypnotised by the mere sight of her; so much so that at one point he actually stopped breathing all together.

"Father…" Anduin prompted softly.

"Hmm?" Varian murmured, unblinking.

"Breathe…"

"What?"

Varian gave him a strange look, only to bark out an awkward cough as he realised that he had, in fact, stopped breathing. He inhaled sharply, the ruddy skin of his neck colouring in embarrassment, and after a few moments he began to breath normally once more. Anduin watched him closely, and only once he was satisfied that his father was not going to pass out from a lack of air did he turn finally turn his full attention back to Auriana.

If he had not known any better, he would have thought her utterly without fear as she walked straight-backed and proud, looking every inch the queen that she would soon become. The only concession to her nerves was her slightly too-tight grip on Khadgar's arm, though the Archmage did not seem at all bothered. He was beaming with all the love and excitement of a proud father, and as he reached the end of the aisle and gently placed her hand in Varian's, Anduin distinctly saw tears of joy glimmering in his kind blue eyes.

For a moment, the entire Cathedral sat in perfect silence as Varian and Auriana simply stared deep into one another's eyes, and it seemed to Anduin as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. At one point, Varian tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth, not a single sound came out. Auriana appeared equally dumbstruck, and Anduin was forced to bite back a smile at their tender awkwardness. In a way, they reminded him of two nervous adolescents about to hold hands for the first time, rather than the two confident, fearless warriors he knew them to be, and if such an action had not been completely inappropriate for the formality of the setting, he would have most certainly laughed out loud.

Fortunately, Anduin was spared the difficulty of trying to hide his fond amusement for too long, as High Priestess Laurena stepped forward to commence the official proceedings. He had attended a few noble weddings in his time, though obviously never one of royalty, and there were apparently quite a few rituals to be observed before the wedding vows themselves could take place. The service opened with an ethereal hymn sung by the Cathedral choir, and was followed by no less than a dozen rituals, offerings and blessings performed by various senior members of the Stormwind clergy.

As both a prince and a priest of the Light, Anduin had long ago learned how to stand still during long, formal ceremonies, but even he found it difficult to avoid fidgeting by the time Laurena had finished reciting the third blessing of the day. Varian and Auriana, however, had somehow stayed perfectly still the entire time; though in fairness they were aided by their complete disinterest in anything other than each other. They had barely so much as blinked throughout the entire protracted service, only breaking eye contact when Prophet Velen at last stepped forward to conduct the vow ceremony proper.

"Good afternoon!" he called, his deep voice effortlessly echoing throughout the entire Cathedral. "I am Velen, of the Exodar, and it is my deep and sincere honour to have been invited to ordain the wedding of His Majesty, High King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind, and Her Grace, Duchess Auriana Fenwild."

He smiled broadly as he spoke, and lifted both his hands as if he intended to welcome the entire Cathedral into the embrace of his power. As he did, the Light in the Cathedral seemed to somehow shine even brighter, and Anduin distinctly felt a sense of great warmth and peace wash over him.

"I have not before presided over a human wedding," Velen added, "However, I know that your King has a reputation for being a man of few words, and as such, I will endeavour to follow his example."

Anduin chuckled politely at Velen's gentle teasing, and he was not the only one who did. Royal ceremonies were often stiff and uncomfortable, and he was pleased to see that the Prophet had remembered that this was a union of two _people_ , not of two titles. A wedding was a joyous occasion, Anduin thought, not something to be endured in grave silence, and he very much appreciated the brief moment of levity ahead of the more serious reading of the vows.

"Today, we are here to stand witness to the joining of two souls beneath the Light. It is no small thing to make a vow of marriage; to promise yourself completely to another, and to uphold that promise in sickness and in health; in both times of happiness and prosperity, and in times of darkness," Velen began. "But if there is anyone who understands the solemnity and power of such a commitment, it is the two people standing before me."

He placed a hand of blessing on Varian and Auriana's shoulders as he spoke, and his ancient face warmed with a small, dignified smile.

"Varian and Auriana. Your paths have not been easy. You have both fought, and bled and suffered, but in doing so, you have each found the path that led to the other. You stand before one another today not merely as a man and a woman, or even as a king and a queen, but as true equals; two halves of the same whole. I have lived a long life, and have seen much, and I can think of no two souls better suited for one another."

Anduin found himself nodding in agreement as Velen spoke, and he was not the only one. Those closest to Varian knew that he could have scarcely asked for a more perfect partner than Auriana; a woman with a true warrior's spirit and the courage and ferocity to match Varian's own. As for Auriana, she needed someone who would never cower from the fire and the fury in her her soul; someone who could not only accept the truth of what she was, but who would be awed by her. Someone exactly like Varian, as it had turned out, even as unlikely as such a thing might have been upon their first meeting.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that Varian had returned from Tanaan Jungle to tell his son of his thrilling misadventures, and the fierce, cold-hearted young mage who had saved his life. At the time, Anduin had thought very little of the encounter, but now he could not have been more overjoyed than to stand at his father's side as Velen as last called upon the pair to pledge themselves to one another in the witness of their family, friends and allies.

"Varian? If you would care to speak first?"

It was not normally traditional for noblemen and noblewomen to write their own vows, but Varian had been insistent that he speak to Auriana honestly, and in his own words. Of course, such things were easier said than done, and more than once Anduin had found his father alone in his study, his fingers stained with ink and his brow creased into a heavy frown as he struggled to put his feelings into words. It wasn't that Varian was inarticulate, far from it, but rather that he would accept nothing less than perfection when it came to Auriana.

Today, however, there was not the slightest hint of doubt or hesitation in Varian's eyes, and he stood tall and lordly as he took Auriana's hands in his own and began to recite his oath.

"Auriana... I have lost a great many things in my life, and in many ways I have lost myself…" he started, his eyes stormy and as intense as Anduin had ever seen them, "But in knowing you… in _loving_ you... I have been truly found."

Varian ran his calloused thumb tenderly over the back of Auriana's pale hand, and unconsciously stepped closer so that they were standing barely inches apart. Right now, he was not a king, or a gladiator, or even a warrior, but simply a man, and it was clear that no one in the world existed for him in that moment save for _her_.

"They say I am two men - Varian and Lo'Gosh - but… but the truth of it is I am only half a man without you. You are the sword in my hand and my light in the darkness; my spirit and my solace, and I _swear_ to you that I will protect you and love you until the end of my days, and beyond."

Varian's voice was so hoarse with feeling that he was practically whispering by the time he finished his piece, but Auriana had heard every word, and that was all that mattered. Much like Varian had earlier, it seemed that she was now also having difficulty breathing, and her brilliant blue eyes swum with tears of pure joy as she pressed a hand to her chest in a vain effort to regain her composure. Anduin could tell that she had been very nearly overwhelmed by Varian's husky eloquence, but when she spoke, she, too, was unhesitating.

"V-Varian…" she gasped, a small, crooked smile pulling gently at the corner of her mouth, "I told you once that you were my hero, and I have never in my life spoken truer words. I fall more in love with you each and every day, and with each and every thing that you do."

Auriana spoke slowly, her voice soft and trembling, but there was no one in the Cathedral who would dare rush her. Varian, certainly, was not in any hurry, and he gazed down at her as if every word she spoke was the last he would ever hear her say.

"You are bravest warrior, the noblest King, and the greatest man that I have ever known, and I can think of no higher honour than to stand by your side as your wife. I offer you my life, my soul, and everything that I am, and I swear to love you until the end of my days, and beyond."

The Light in the Cathedral seemed to brighten even further as Auriana finished speaking, and Anduin could practically _feel_ the powerful energy between her and Varian pricking on his skin. His own eyes had grown misty with love and pride for the two people standing before him, and yet he doubted that either of them currently remembered that he - or anyone else - existed. Neither Varian or Auriana could as take their eyes off the other for even a second, and and they both looked rather startled when Velen spoke to continue the ceremony.

"It would take a far braver man than I to object to the union of these two _particular_ people, and in the interests of public safety, I believe I will omit this part of the ceremony," he declared, to another ripple of mannered laughter.

Privately, Anduin agreed, though Varian still saw fit to shoot a rather fearsome glare into the crowd, as if daring someone to try. Of course, there _were_ those present who would very much prefer that the ceremony did not proceed, though Anduin very much doubted they would be so stupid as to cause any trouble beneath the Prophet's watchful eye.

"Please bring forth the rings."

Velen beckoned, and Anduin reached into his pocket to withdraw the elegant mithril ring that Varian would present to Auriana as a symbol of their union. It was a tiny, fragile thing, and it all but disappeared as Anduin pressed it carefully into his father's enormous palm. At the same time, Jaina passed a thick gold band to Auriana, whose fingers were shaking so badly that she almost dropped it. Fortunately, no one except Anduin seemed to have noticed, and he gave her a small, encouraging smile.

"Varian Barathen Wrynn," Velen intoned, "Do you take this woman to be your wife; do you promise to love, honour, and cherish her, from this day until your last?"

"I do," Varian said firmly, almost cutting the Prophet last word's off in his eagerness.

His hold on Auriana's hand slid to her wrist, and he cradled it with surprising delicacy as he slid the ring onto her finger.

"Auriana Iselyn Fenwild," Velen continued, "Do you take this man to be your husband; do you promise to love, honour, and cherish him, from this day until your last?"

Auriana's gaze lowered as she mimicked Varian's actions with the ring, but when she looked up once more, she wore a beaming smile that was large as any Anduin had ever seen upon her face.

"I do," she whispered.

"Then in the presence of these witnesses, and with the blessings of the Holy Light, it is my genuine privilege to declare you man and wife!" Velen proclaimed, his smile almost as wide as Auriana's own. "What the Light has bound together, let no one tear asunder."

He pressed his hands together in gesture of blessing, and inclined his head in sincere and heartfelt respect.

"Varian, you may kiss your bride."

Varian did not immediately move to embrace Auriana, as Anduin half-suspected he might, and in truth there was something almost shy about the way he cupped her pale cheek in the curve of his palm. His stern brow was furrowed, and Anduin suddenly realised that Varian considered this Auriana' final test; her last chance to walk away or choose another path. Anduin doubted that Varian was even aware of it himself, but he needed _her_ to move first, to prove once and for all that this was the life she wanted…

And prove it she did.

Where Varian was unusually hesitant, Auriana was now uncharacteristically bold, and she pulled his mouth firmly down to meet hers. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as their lips met, and nearly every person present rose to their feet in celebration of the King of Stormwind and his new Queen.

For his part, Anduin was forced to brush at his eyes with the back of his sleeve as he fought back a fresh wave of joyous tears, and as he glanced across the aisle, he caught sight of Jaina was doing the exact same thing. He had never expected to see such a day in his lifetime; a single, perfect day of happiness for the man he loved more than any other person in the world. Anduin felt a wonderful warmth spread slowly through his chest, and as Varian swept Auriana clear off the ground and held her closer, he whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the Light that they were both safe, and loved, and finally _one_.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Mature content warning.**

 **Varian**

Varian felt as if he were dreaming.

It couldn't have possibly come to pass, he thought, that he was now standing before his friends and family, holding Auriana in his arms as his _wife_. After all his restless longing… all the sleepless nights… all the times he had nearly lost her... he was frankly astonished that they had managed to make it this far. She couldn't have possibly looked _that_ beautiful, either, nor tasted quite so sweet…

And yet here they were.

Varian explored her mouth slowly, quite ignoring the fact that he was standing in front of hundreds of his allies and constituents. He had been slow to kiss her at first, perhaps due to the part of him that still couldn't entirely believe that she was now his, but surprisingly, Auriana had shown no such hesitation. She had kissed him with a ferocity that belied the very public setting, and Varian had been only too happy to return her passion in kind, the very moment her lips met his.

He lost track of time as he kissed her, until a quiet cough from Velen pulled him back to reality. Auriana, too, seemed to have forgotten that they were not alone, and her cheeks coloured brilliantly as they broke apart. Varian refused to feel ashamed of showing his affection for his new wife, however, and he thrust his chest out proudly as he linked his arm through Auriana's and led her back down the aisle and out into the bright afternoon sunshine.

If Varian had thought it had been loud on the way _to_ the ceremony, it was nothing compared to the wave of sound that greeted him as he and Auriana emerged from the Cathedral. Practically all of Stormwind had come out to see their new Queen, and it seemed they were intent to welcome her as warmly - and _loudly_ \- as possible. Varian's ears rang as he guided Auriana to their waiting phaeton and helped her ascend the steps, but he would never have dreamed of uttering a word of complaint. He was grateful beyond words to have the support of his people, and thought it well worth the price of a little noise.

Varian could acknowledge, however, that Auriana may have felt differently. She was naturally quite shy, and he supposed that even the most confident person might take pause at the thunderous roar of thousands upon thousands of people. Worried, he glanced across at Auriana as he took his own seat, but was pleased to find that she did not appear at all fazed by the cacophony. She was beaming and radiant, much to his relief, and she even went so far as to offer the assembled citizens of Stormwind a small, tentative wave as the carriage pulled away from the Cathedral and out towards the city proper.

Varian desperately wanted to talk to her, but the open-topped phaeton did very little to dull the shouting of the excitable crowd, and he doubted that Auriana would be able to hear a word he said. Instead, he settled for taking one of her hands in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. Auriana smiled in return, and nestled a little closer to him as the carriage rolled down the cobbled streets towards the Trade District. While the wedding guests would return to the ballroom immediately for the feast, Varian and Auriana would first take a tour of the city, making a full circle through all of Stormwind's districts before heading back up towards the Keep.

Auriana had been hesitant when Varian had first mentioned the tour, worried as she was about her acceptance amongst the peoples of Stormwind. She had eventually relented to his insistence that they would be delighted to welcome their new queen, and he was glad to see that his people had not made him a liar. They were crammed into every available bit of space along Stormwind's streets and canals, chanting traditional songs and waving brightly coloured flags and banners.

In contrast, Varian's concerns had primarily centred upon Auriana's safety, knowing that there were still people in the city who would gladly see her dead, but he saw no signs of danger as the carriage rolled slowly on through the milling crowd. Ridley and a squad of royal elites were shadowing them in any case, and he trusted his guards to do their duty in the event that something went wrong. He even managed to relax as the carriage pulled into the Trade District, though he kept his gaze firmly trained on Auriana as she stared about the city in clear amazement.

As much as she had agonised over looking the part of a queen, Varian could not think of anyone who could have looked more stately and lovely than she did that day. Her low-cut dress showed off her slender shoulders and elegant neck to great effect, while the delicate tiara glittering in her hair leant her an air of regal command. Of course, Varian was biased, but he defied _anyone_ to suggest that she was not the very picture of royalty.

Auriana suddenly turned away from the crowd, and gave him the look she always did when she caught him staring; a crooked half-smile caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Varian refused to stop, however, raising his eyebrows in defiance and drinking her in with his gaze. He loved the way his attentions made Auriana flustered; loved the way the tops of her ears coloured pink, and the way she couldn't quite look him in the eye; though he thought he caught a glimpse of a smile upon her face as she turned her attention back out towards the city.

It was after dark by the time the royal carriage returned to the Keep, after having completed its long, winding journey through the the city. Neither Varian nor Auriana had said a word the entire time, both recognising the pointlessness of trying to be understood above the crowd, and yet he felt they had managed to communicate the depth of their feelings almost as well. Varian had not let go of her hand throughout the entire ride, while she had kept her entire body si8lently but firmly pressed into his side.

Varian offered his arm to Auriana to help her from the carriage as they finally pulled to a stop, and together they walked arm in up the grand promenade towards the throne room. Ridley and the rest of the guard followed close behind, shadowing them at a respectful distance as Varian led his new bride quickly toward the Keep's grand ballroom.

They were soon met by the royal herald in his immaculate tabard, ready to formally introduce them to the world for the first time as man and wife, though Varian was not quite ready to enter the feast just yet. He was well aware that their guests had already been waiting for some time, but he still wanted to speak to Auriana alone before they were once again inundated by noise and company. She had been nothing less than graceful all afternoon, but he knew how much she had fretted over the wedding, and he wanted to make sure she was alright before they continued on to more festivities.

To that end, Varian paused about halfway down the corridor, tugging gently on Auriana's arm for her to stop, and he waved for both the guards and the herald to continue on without them.

"A moment, please," he said firmly. "We'll be with you in a minute."

"Yes, sire," the herald said crisply, though he gave them both a curious look before he shuffled off down the corridor and slipped through the enormous wooden doors that lead to the ballroom.

Ridley was a bit more hesitant, though she complied with the order immediately upon a short nod from Auriana; the rest of the guard following in her wake. Varian watched him go with sharp eyes, and only once he was satisfied that they were entirely alone did he turn back to face his bride.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, glancing curiously towards the ballroom.

"No. Everything's fine," Varian assured her. "More than fine, really. It was just so damn loud out there, we didn't really get a chance to… talk."

"What did you want to talk about?" Auriana asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Nothing in particular," he admitted, "Though there were a lot of people out there, and I only wanted to see if you were alright…"

"Alright? I'm… _wonderful_ ," she smiled. "This has been… the best day of my life."

Heartened, Varian pulled her forward into his arms and rested his chin lovingly against the side of her head. She was so beautiful it made his heart ache, and he felt almost giddy with the realisation that she was now all _his_.

"Auriana Wrynn," he murmured, his fingers tracing soft circles on the bare skin of her upper back. "It suits you."

"You think so?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled from where her face was pressed against his chest.

She did not seem to be at all bothered by the cool metal of his armour against her cheek, however, and if anything, he thought she might have cuddled closer at the sound of her new name.

"I do," he insisted. "I think you were made for it."

Varian tilted her chin gently upwards, and was rewarded with a wide, beaming smile. Auriana did not smile like that often, and he was always delighted to have been the cause. The urge to kiss her became overwhelming, and he eagerly lowered his head to capture her lips with his.

His brief moment of hesitation in the Cathedral forgotten, here alone with Auriana he was as bold and passionate as ever. He pressed her back against the rough stone wall of the Keep, pinning her tightly beneath his bulk as he kissed her over and over again. She tasted wonderful, even sweeter than she had in the Cathedral earlier, and Varian found that himself growing less and less interested in attending the ball with each passing second.

"Why don't we skip the reception, and I'll show you what it really means to be my wife, hmm…?" he murmured huskily, his lips grazing the soft skin of her ear.

Varian distinctly felt Auriana quiver against him, but before he could tease her further, he was interrupted by a soft cough from somewhere nearby. He grumbled low under his breath, wondering who would be so foolish and audacious as to interrupt their King in the midst of such important state business, and turned to see Genn Greymane standing about ten feet away back down the corridor.

"Varian! There you are! Would you two stop canoodling in the shadows? Half the kingdom is waiting," he snorted, nodding towards the ballroom.

"Then they can wait a bit longer," Varian growled. "I'm busy."

He smiled roguishly down at Auriana, and she blushed. Genn, however, was not quite so charmed by Varian's antics. He folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot in an effort to appear genuinely disapproving, though he couldn't quite hide the glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Light, man, you're forty, not fourteen..." he said, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

Varian barked out a quick laugh, though the Gilnean King was perhaps closer to the truth than he may have realised. He _felt_ like a young man again, as if his whole life were still ahead of him, and his entire body thrummed with an eager, excitable energy.

"We'll be right there, Genn," Auriana said quietly. "Varian only wanted a minute for us to… talk."

"I see," Genn said, his bushy moustaches twitching. "'Talking' has certainly changed considerably since my day. But I suppose you Stormwindians always were an odd people."

He gave Auriana a suggestive little wink, before turning on his heel and making his way back towards the ballroom. He called out over his shoulder as he walked; the sound of his barking laugh echoing loudly through the corridor.

"Don't make me send Mia to drag you both out by the ears!"

Varian snorted in amusement as Genn disappeared, imagining Mia Greymane dragging him back to the ballroom like he were a naughty child. Not that he would ever permit such a thing to happen, of course, but it was an amusing enough thought.

"I suppose we ought to follow him," Auriana remarked, though she, too, sounded distinctly disappointed.

"One moment."

Varian gently tugged at the top of her bodice to pull it back into place from where his amorous attentions had set it askew, and he brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear.

"There," he said. "Perfect."

Auriana smiled at his praise, and stood a little straighter. She linked her arm through his, and together they made their way down the hall towards the ballroom. Varian knocked once to draw the herald's attention, and a second later he heard the bright blast of trumpets proclaiming their arrival.

"Presenting His Royal Majesty, King Varian Wrynn, and Her Royal Majesty, Queen Auriana Wrynn," the herald proclaimed, his booming voice only just audible through the wooden doors.

Varian felt Auriana take a deep breath, though her expression was calm and controlled as the doors opened to reveal hundreds of their friends and guests waiting in two long lines that stretched across the entire length of the ballroom. It was traditional for a king and queen to greet each and every one of their guests in turn before commencing the feast, though it was the part of the formalities that Varian was perhaps looking forward to the least. Not because he wasn't grateful, but because he was hardly a social person at the best of times, and because there were quite literally _hundreds_ of them.

It helped, of course, that Anduin, Genn, Broll, Valeera, Khadgar, Jaina and Kalec were standing at the front of the line of wellwishers. Anduin was the first to offer his congratulations, the others standing back respectfully as the Prince of Stormwind pulled his father into a tight hug. Varian was not normally one to show his affection so openly, but in this case he decided it was more than warranted by the occasion. He returned Anduin's vigour with his own particular sort of gruff enthusiasm, patting his son firmly on the shoulder as they shared a brief but warm embrace.

Fortunately, Anduin pulled away before the emotional moment lingered overlong; his attention quickly turning from Varian to Auriana. He gave her a wide smile and a crushing hug, nearly lifting her off her feet in his joy. She returned his brilliant smile in kind, and after a few moments hesitation, gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. Both of them were blushing furiously the whole while, and they each looked so similarly shy and delighted that Varian was forced to turn away lest he burst out laughing.

He then moved to greet Genn, who also looked rather amused by Anduin and Auriana's bashful antics. The Gilnean was beaming and magnanimous as he clapped Varian on the back like a proud father, before he turned to kiss the back of Auriana's hand with a dashing courtier's flourish.

Broll and Valeera were next, both of whom smiled broadly as Varian clasped each of them by the forearm in a warrior's salute. Neither offered any words, but amongst friends who had shared so much, no words were necessary. They were both sincerely happy for him, Varian could tell, and he was deeply moved to know that they had come so far just to stand by his side.

Varian glanced to his right, and saw Auriana and Khadgar locked in a tight, familial embrace. The older Archmage was absolutely beaming, and as Varian watched, he bent down and whispered something in Auriana's ear that made her smile and duck her head. Varian knew that she had been saddened not to have had any of her own family in attendance, and he was very grateful for Khadgar's presence as a wonderful friend and escort in her father's stead.

He felt a sudden soft touch against his arm, and he turned his head to see that Jaina, too, was watching the warm exchange between her fellow Archmages. A broad smile graced her features, the likes of which Varian had rarely seen on in on her face since the fall of Theramore, and her crystal eyes shone with genuine pride and affection as turned her gaze toward him.

"Well done," she whispered. "I'm so _happy_ for you, Varian."

She stood up upon her tiptoes to give Varian a short, tight hug, before stepping back to allow Kalec the opportunity to offer his own congratulations. The blue dragon was most effusive towards Auriana, mimicking Anduin and Khadgar's actions and giving her an affectionate kiss and a brief embrace. Strangely enough, however, he then turned to Varian, and placed a similarly enthusiastic kiss upon _his_ cheek.

"Kalec, _no_!" Jaina exclaimed, pressing a hand over her mouth in wide-eyed horror. "Not him."

"Oh," the former Aspect said, his stark blue brows drawing together in an expression of the utmost confusion. "I only thought…"

Evidently, while the blue was both curious and highly intelligent, he still had not mastered _all_ of the varied and complex social standards common amongst the younger races.

"I'll explain later," Jaina said quickly, her cheeks colouring in faint embarrassment.

She patted Kalec's forearm, and gave Varian a bemused, apologetic look; almost as if she thought he might be angry. Varian, however, found the dragon's gaffe rather amusing, and he decided to have a little fun at Jaina's expense.

"My sincere apologies," he murmured, lowering his voice so that only she could hear, "I shall endeavour to better keep my animal magnetism in check. After all, we wouldn't your dragon leaving you for me, eh?"

Jaina's eyes widened as she struggled to fight back a sudden laugh, though she quickly recovered her expression. It wasn't often that Varian managed to get one up on his old friend, and he smirked to himself in satisfaction as he moved on to receive the warm well wishes of the other leaders of the Alliance.

Not all those in line were as gracious as Varian's closest friends and allies, however. He caught sight of a fair few of the House of Nobles regarding Auriana with skeptical eyes, though of course they were well practiced in keeping such expressions hidden behind a veneer of polite smiles and deep bows. Varian was well used to their duplicity, and he could easily tell the difference between the fake smiles and the true, but if Auriana were as aware, she gave no outward sign.

Varian knew that she had been worried about greeting their noble guests, terrified as she was that they would publicly refuse to accept her as Stormwind's Queen. She would never say as much, of course, but Varian knew her well enough to know that it concerned her a great deal. Still, one could not tell from looking at her, and she held herself with a quiet grace as they moved together from one guest to the next.

The real test, however, came in the form of Duke Rohas Anguile and his vapid daughter. They had both attended the wedding, not least because an absence would have attracted a great deal of unfavourable attention. Only a handful of people in the room knew that Anguile had been the financier behind the attacks on Anduin and Auriana, and it took every last shred of control that Varian possessed not to simply snap the man's neck right then and there. He _did_ understand why they had to keep up appearances, but it was exceptionally challenging to remain calm in the face of a man who had tried to destroy his entire world.

Auriana, too, stiffened almost imperceptibly on Varian's arm when she realised that Anguile was next in line, but her bearing was cool and poised as she stared the traitorous Duke down. For a moment, Varian wondered if he would be so rude as to refuse to acknowledge her, but after a single, tense moment of hesitation, the wily Duke sank into a bow not a hair's breadth lower than was appropriate for a nobleman to a queen. Cathelora followed her father's lead a second later, and Varian saw the tiniest flicker of grim satisfaction cross Auriana's face as they moved off down the line once more.

Fortunately, she received a much warmer welcome from the high-ranking military and SI:7 officers in attendance. More than anyone else in the city, they understood why Auriana was so special - and just how much she had already given of herself in the defense of Stormwind and the Alliance. They each offered crisp, respectful salutes as Varian and Auriana passed, and a couple of the younger soldiers were even so overcome with excitement that they let out quiet acclamations for Stormwind, the Alliance, and their King and Queen.

Eventually, Varian and Auriana reached the end of the line, leaving their guests free to find to their seats. As the newlyweds, however, their part in the formal proceedings was not quite over just yet. Just as greeting each wedding guest was a time honoured tradition at royal and noble weddings, so too was the first dance, in which Varian and Auriana would take to the floor alone.

Varian knew she had been dreading such a public display, despite the fact that she was a lovely dancer. He could hardly criticise her reticence, however, given that he felt much the same. A public declaration of vows was one thing, but the first dance was the kind of tradition that Varian found particularly tedious - one where all eyes were on him; not because he had earned the attention through merit or valour, but simply because he was the King. If it were somewhere more private, he might have even enjoyed the dance, but for tonight the best he could do was ensure that the two of them did not look as stiff and awkward as they undoubtedly both felt.

Still, it was a chance to hold Auriana, and that certainly made the prospect of meeting his kingly obligations much more enticing. His right hand settled around the sharp line of her shoulder blade as they reached the centre of the floor, and he drew her close against his chest as the musicians began to play a slow, stately waltz.

"They're all staring," Auriana whispered, her hand tightening nervously in his.

"Well, we _are_ the only two people on the floor," Varian reasoned. "And I'm sure it's only because you're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen."

"Varian…"

"Bah! No arguments," he growled. "Besides, when have you ever known me to lie?"

A brief scowl crossed Auriana's face, though she clearly had no effective retort. Instead, she surrendered herself to Varian's lead, and allowed him to spin her grandly about the enormous dance floor. She really was a beautiful dancer, seemingly responding to Varian's thoughts rather than his touch, but even despite her grace, her body felt uncomfortably rigid in his arms.

"Do you remember the first time we danced?" Varian asked, more to distract her than because he genuinely believed she had forgotten.

For his part, he could remember the night as if it were yesterday; how he had marvelled at the slenderness of her waist and the elegance of her dark blue dress. It was the first time he had ever really allowed himself to see Auriana as a woman, and the first time he had come to realise just how much he had come to care for her.

"The Winter's Veil Ball. I remember. I also seem to recall that _you_ assumed I would be awful at it," Auriana pointed out.

Her eyes sparkled fondly, and some of the tension in her shoulders released.

"Hmph. Noticed that, did you?"

"Let's just say I didn't marry you for your subtlety," she said, her lips twitching.

"Ah, but you _did_ marry me," Varian countered.

He took advantage of a sudden swell in the music to spin Auriana around and pull her back into a close embrace, and he refused to let her go for the remainder of the song. Fortunately, his gentle questioning had done as he had hoped, and she seemed to forget about the hundreds upon hundreds of eyes watching them the longer the song went on.

Varian, too, might have even begun to enjoy himself by the time the waltz faded into a last refrain, and he held Auriana in a lingering embrace long after the final note had played.

"For as long as I live," he whispered roughly, "I will be so very grateful that I asked you to dance that night."

The sudden thunder of applause snapped Varian back to reality, and he had to forcibly remind himself that he had several more formal commitments to fulfil before he and Auriana could be properly alone. He released her from his arms and stepped back, bowing towards her with as much In response, she flared her skirts and sank into a low curtsey before him, exactly as a queen should, before allowing him to take her by the arm and escort her to her seat at the high table for the commencement of the feast.

Varian, however, remained standing, and lifted his goblet high in the air in toast. As Velen had suggested during the wedding ceremony, he generally preferred to be a man of few words, but he was not so laconic that he could not find it in himself to express his gratitude.

"Thank you all," he started, "For joining us on this - well, if I'm being frank - on this entirely unexpected occasion."

The ballroom rang with laughter at his words, and even Varian couldn't hide a small, gruff smile.

"I would not be standing before you if it were not for the support of my friends and allies in this room, and I am certain that Auriana feels the same. In particular, I know _I_ would not be here without the support of my son, Prince Anduin."

He looked to his left, and nodded gratefully to his beloved only child. Anduin beamed up at him in return, and for the first time in a long while, Varian felt as if he might genuinely be worthy of his son's unwavering faith and love.

"As a token of my gratitude," he continued, clearing his throat, "I invite you all to share in our joy this evening - please eat and drink and dance as much as you desire. The hospitality of Stormwind, and of my family, is yours."

Varian's gaze shifted to the right, and he tilted his glass towards Auriana. She did not look quite so confident and relaxed as Anduin, but having survived both the receiving line and their first dance, she looked decidedly more comfortable than she had before.

"And finally, I ask you all to join me in a toast to the new Queen of Stormwind," he declared. "To Auriana!"

"To Auriana!" the crowd echoed, and soon the entire ballroom rang with the sound of cheers and clinking glasses.

As Varian resumed his seat, a sudden loud _pop_ sounded somewhere nearby, and he instinctively moved to shield Auriana with his body. He quickly realised that sound did not signal a threat, however, but rather _fireworks_ blossoming overhead. Dozens of shapes had begun to shimmer in and out of existence beneath the ballroom's arched ceiling - a Stormwind lion; a snowflake; a sword; and many other wonders besides.

The shapes were quite miraculous; and it seemed to Varian that they were far too clean and precise to have been made with traditional fireworks. They also lacked the characteristic scent of gunpowder, and Varian realised that they could have only been summoned by very complex and delicate arcane magic. On a hunch, he looked down along the head table to his right, and saw Jaina lifting her glass towards him in acknowledgment.

"A gift from the Kirin Tor!" she smiled.

Another enthusiastic round of applause followed her declaration, and the wedding guests remained thoroughly entranced by the display as servants bearing heaping plates of food entered the hall. The alcohol was also plentiful, thanks in large part to a generous donation from the dwarves, and Varian was pleased to see his guests taking his advice as they began to enthusiastically eat and drink the night away. The star of the feast was the enormous buck Varian and his hunters had caught the day before, though there were plenty of other options on hand for those who did not favour venison, including Varian's favourite catfish and crab legs. A sumptuous dessert followed after, along with a wedding cake so large that for a moment Varian thought that he might have needed Shalamayne to cut the damn thing.

As the night wore on, the reception gradually grew less and less formal as the steady flow of wine and ale loosened tongues and lowered inhibitions. The musicians had taken up playing again at the conclusion of the feasting proper, and the floor had been consistently filled with dancers from all races of the Alliance ever since. Conversations had become louder and more enthusiastic, and what had begun as a very stately royal affair soon became a celebration that would not have looked out of place in a tavern in Old Town. It helped that Varian was not known to be a stickler for etiquette, even when it was _not_ his wedding, and it seemed his guests were more than willing to take advantage of their king's eccentricity. Varian had no intention of overindulging, himself, but he certainly had no intention of begrudging others their fun.

Auriana attracted considerable attention throughout the night, and was asked many times to dance; though she returned to her seat quickly after each turn about the floor. She was clearly very conscious about appearing suitably queenly, drinking no more than a glass or two of wine throughout the entire evening, and Varian hoped she was not so concerned about propriety that she forgot to enjoy herself. Anduin, on the other hand, seemed to suffer from no such compunctions, as he quite happily allowed Valeera and Tess Greymane to lead him astray. The boy had absolutely no tolerance for alcohol, Varian knew, though he was also secretly pleased to see his normally bookish son let his hair down a little.

As for the larger, brasher personalities in the room, they simply became even louder - Genn Greymane chief among them. He seemed as proud of Varian as he would have been of his own son, and the two Kings had spent most of latter part of the evening sitting side by side, sharing a fine Gilnean brandy as they talked and laughed and watched the other guests dance. Genn could undoubtedly be a proud and prickly personality, but under the influence of copious amounts of food and alcohol, he was ebullient and irresistibly jolly.

He was also, as Varian soon learned, incapable of keeping his mouth properly shut. After one particularly fast-paced turn about the floor on the arm of Muradin Bronzebeard, Auriana had returned, pink-cheeked and breathless, to her seat at Varian's side. The Gilnean King's wolflike eyes narrowed wickedly as he watched her take a drink, and after a few moments pause, he spoke.

"So, Auriana… when might we expect to see you with a little prince or princess of your own?" he asked, nodding to two young noble children as they swung each other across the dance floor with giddy glee.

Auriana's eyes widened at his words, and she began to choke on a too-large sip of wine. Concerned, Varian rapped her lightly on the back to help clear her throat, and she coughed heavily for a few moments before she was able to regain her breath.

"Ah… I haven't… that is…" she stammered, "Um… oh! I think Khadgar is waving at me, I did promise him a dance… it would be rude… if I didn't… I should..."

She gestured vaguely and stumbled to her feet, and gave Genn an awkward little half-bow as she turned and disappeared into the crowd milling about the dancefloor.

"Hmm," Genn mused. "Do you know, I don't see Khadgar anywhere."

The two kings exchanged a look.

"Thank you for that," Varian growled sarcastically.

"My apologies," Genn said, taking a long draw of his brandy. "I assume you have _not_ had that conversation with her."

In truth, Varian had not given all that much thought to the subject of children. It had been enough of a challenge simply getting Auriana down the aisle, that he hadn't even considered what might come after. Oddly enough, it was one of the few topics they had never discussed, and up until now, he had genuinely had no idea how she felt. Judging from the speed at which Auriana had made her retreat, however, he gathered that _she_ had not thought too much about it, either.

"I _had_ intended to discuss the issue privately, at a time when I could do so in a delicate and sensitive manner," he explained.

"Oh, come now, Varian," Genn snorted. "Don't lie."

"Lie?" Varian asked, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"You've never raised _any_ issue in a delicate and sensitive manner," Genn said lightly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, and gave Varian a sly, toothy grin.

"Ha, ha," Varian sighed, rolling his eyes with superb disdain. "Remind me again why I keep you around?"

Genn's grin widened, and he shrugged.

"My biting repartee?"

"You are a good dog, I'll give you that," Varian agreed. "Bit mangy, but loyal."

To add insult to injury, he reached out to pat Genn on the head like he would an obedient hound, making the Gilnean King laugh as he swatted Varian's hand away. Genn was in a very good mood, and Varian was quite happy to take advantage of his magnanimity. Genn had a loud, rasping laugh that was difficult to ignore, and he chuckled raucously for a few moments before he grew serious once more.

"You really don't know where she stands?" he asked.

"No. We will discuss it if and when she wants to," Varian said firmly, his tone allowing no room for argument.

"What about you? Do you want more children?"

Genn's sharp gaze turned to the dance floor, and settled upon his only daughter. Tess was currently dancing with Kalec, her face flushed and excited as she dragged the very bewildered dragon around, and a fond smile flickered across his face.

"You know how I feel about Anduin," Varian admitted quietly, "But… I would never place my desire for another child ahead of Auriana's happiness and wellbeing. The choice is hers."

Genn nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful as he watched Tess twirl about the room.

"There are some who would argue that it is the duty of a queen to bear you heirs," he pointed out.

"Bah," Varian snarled. "Those people be damned. She is _my_ queen, and I would never force her."

He settled back in his chair, and followed Genn's line of sight out over the dancefloor. Although he strongly suspected Auriana's claim that she had seen Khadgar waving had been a lie, she had actually found the older Archmage and somehow convinced him to dance. He was clearly not a dancer, but he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as he guided Auriana about the floor; his eyes glued to his feet as he tried not to stumble. Auriana, in contrast, was extremely skilled, and she looked every inch a queen as she flowed gracefully from one turn to the the next.

My _queen_ , Varian repeated silently to himself, and he smiled.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed quickly, in a blur of food and wine and good cheer, and soon it was time for Varian and Auriana to depart for their wedding night and honeymoon. In a more archaic time, Auriana would have been carried upstairs by a raucous crowd to be bedded, but Varian found such traditions to be outdated and rather crude. Not to mention that he also strongly suspected that Auriana might die of embarrassment on the spot were he to insist.

Instead, he had arranged for their discreet departure from the ballroom, escorted only by a few servants. He bid a warm farewell to Anduin before leaving, briefly reminding his son to take good care of the kingdom in his absence, but he did not tarry overlong on the rest of his goodbyes. As much as he sincerely appreciated the kindness and generosity of his friends and allies in their support of his marriage, he had been fighting back a desperate urge to be alone with Auriana all night, and he was losing.

Badly.

He spirited her from the ballroom as quickly as he was able, and led her down to the throne room, where they were met by Malfurion Stormrage, Ridley, and a handful of other guards and servants. As requested, the servants had brought Varian and Auriana's bags, carefully packed the night before, as well as a strange, paper-wrapped package that he didn't recognise. It seemed to mean something to Auriana, however, and she fussed over it for a minute before she stood back to allow one of her maids to place a warm cloak about her shoulders.

Varian had been unsure where to take Auriana for their honeymoon. He had initially though to take her back to Lunarfall, to Draenor, as an homage to where they had first met… until he remembered that Draenor was _also_ the place where she had been kidnapped, tortured, betrayed, and nearly killed on multiple occasions. Unfortunately, it was admittedly difficult to find a place on Azeroth where Auriana _hadn't_ been in mortal peril, and he had just about decided to give up in favour of a simple trip to Goldshire.

Somewhat to Varian's surprise, however, the solution had eventually come to him in the form of Malfurion Stormrage. The Archdruid had overheard a conversation between Varian and Broll a few days before the wedding, in which Varian had lamented his inability to find a suitable destination. His main concern was privacy; somewhere he and Auriana could be well and truly alone for the first time since they had met, and yet every place he could think of simply seemed inadequate. At that point, Malfurion had politely interjected, and had offered the use of an isolated cabin on the shores of a lake to the northeast of the night elf capital.

The offer had been unexpected, given that Malfurion was still somewhat hesitant when it came to Auriana, but Varian had been grateful nonetheless. The last time he had been in Darnassus he had been a rather different man, still seething with all the rage and misery of his reintegration. He had not truly appreciated the beauty of Teldrassil much at the time, but as a destination for a honeymoon, he supposed he could do a lot worse than a private hideaway beneath the graceful twilight branches of a world tree.

"Thank you again for your hospitality, Malfurion. I'm very grateful," he said, giving the towering night elf a short but sincere nod of thanks.

"You are welcome, Varian," the Archdruid replied. "I will remain here for the evening and return home with the rest of my retinue tomorrow, but I have arranged for a Sentinel escort to meet you in the city. Should you require any assistance, you need only ask them."

"We're going to Darnassus?" Auriana asked, her blue eyes wide.

"For a start," Varian said vaguely, wanting to keep their true destination a secret for a little longer. "Speaking of which - are you able to open a portal?"

"It would be something of a kink in your plans if I couldn't, hmm?" she smirked, though she nevertheless raised her hands and casually waved a portal into existence.

Ridley immediately moved to collect their luggage, shouldering the bulky bags with ease, and was the first to vanish through the portal. At Ridley's insistence, it had been agreed that she would go ahead as something of a scout, to ensure that there was no danger waiting on the other side. Privately, Varian thought it unlikely that they would encounter trouble in Darnassus, especially given that very few people knew of their destination, though he _did_ appreciate the merits of having a bodyguard who was as paranoid about Auriana's safety as he.

Varian waited a few moments after Ridley had disappeared, before he took Auriana by the arm and prepared to lead her into the portal. She didn't really _need_ his assistance, of course, but he needed to stay close to her in a way that could not be satisfied by mere proximity alone. Fortunately, she accepted his protective touch without comment, and permitted him to guide her gently into the shimmering blue portal. A brief moment of disorientation followed, only for the world to right itself a second later as they rematerialised in the grove beneath the Temple of the Moon.

As Malfurion had promised, two lean, elegant night elf Sentinels had were awaiting their arrival, and they stepped forward and bowed as one as Varian and Auriana gathered their bearings.

"Welcome to Darnassus, Your Majesty," the taller of the two elves said. "My name is Arythe Silvercloud, and this is my sister-in-arms, Ilise Farbough. It is our honour to escort you out into the forest this evening."

"I trust you received Malfurion's message, then?" Varian asked, tilting his head back to study the night elf architecture looming above him.

It had been some time since he had visited Darnassus, but the elven Temple was just as grand and imposing as he remembered. Varian did not consider himself magically inclined by any means, but even he could feel the power thrumming through the ancient stone, and he vaguely wondered whether the night elves' beloved Elune was watching down upon them even now.

"We did," Arythe confirmed, "Though we were not expecting you quite so soon."

"My apologies," Varian said, glancing briefly at Auriana. "It was getting late in Stormwind, and I didn't wish to be delayed."

"It is of no concern," Arythe insisted, accepting his contrition with a slight tilt of her head. "Please, Your Majesties, this way."

She quickly relieved Ridley of Varian's pack, while Ilise did the same for Auriana's, and gestured down the promenade that led out of the Temple and into the city proper. Auriana did not immediately follow, however, instead bidding a quick farewell to her bodyguard. The two women exchanged some short, quiet words, and even shared a brief embrace before Auriana opened a second portal so that Ridley might return home to Stormwind.

The Sentinel pair then lead them to a group of saddled nightsabers waiting just outside the Temple, ready to bear them out of the city, and quickly set about securing their luggage. The packs, however, did not present the greatest challenge. It was somewhat difficult to get Auriana seated on at nightsaber in her elaborate dress, but after some judicious wriggling, Varian had her carefully settled across the front of his saddle. He could tell she thought it was a bit ridiculous and fanciful, the swooning maiden being spirited away by her king, but she nevertheless held tightly to him as the nightsabers loped off towards the forest.

The night air was brisk as it whipped at Varian's face, and after a quarter hour of riding both his nose and the tips of his ears had gone numb. He could feel Auriana start to shiver against him, even beneath the warmth of her cloak, and he hoped the journey would not be overlong.

As it turned out, however, the cabin was even more isolated than Varian had been led to believe, and he guessed that they had been riding for over an hour before a low-slung night elf building came into view. It was difficult to see through the dim twilight shroud that blanketed all of Teldrassil, but he could vaguely make out the outline of some sort of longhouse stretching out along the shores of a small lake. A faint red glow hinted at a fire burning somewhat within, and as they drew closer Varian saw that someone had even gone to the trouble of leaving a congratulatory wreath of flowers above the open door.

He pulled his nightsaber to a halt and dismounted about ten yards from the cabin, before turning to assist Auriana. She stumbled slightly as her feet hit the ground, her low heels catching in the long train of her dress, and she fell forward against Varian's chest. He was certainly not one to complain about the sudden contact, though, and he gave her his most winning smile as he steadied her with a firm hand upon her lower back and guided her towards the cabin.

Inside, it was brighter than Varian had expected, thanks to the crackling hearthfire burning a few feet away from the large bed in the centre of the room, and the light from the dozens of candles that had been placed on every conceivable surface. White, purple, and crimson flower petals had been strewn across the silken bedsheets, presumably by the same person who had left the wreath outside, and he spied several bottles of wine on a table in the back corner. Varian had admittedly failed to think of such little touches, much as he always did, and he gave silent thanks to whoever it was who had thought to cover for his romantic failings.

"You have enough food and supplies for a week," Arythe explained, setting Varian's pack down on the ground at the edge of the bed. "Though Archdruid Stormrage indicated that you may like to hunt for your own meat. You will find good game to the west, and bows and knives in the chest at the foot of the bed."

"Should you require assistance, you need only call," Ilise continued, handing Varian a small wooden whistle that had had been carved in the shape of an owl. "Blow once, and a Sentinel will arrive by air within the hour. Blow twice in case of an emergency."

"Are you anticipating an emergency?" Varian asked, turning the small whistle over in his hands.

It appeared unremarkable, though he assumed that it must carry an enchantment of some sort to summon the Sentinels from so far away.

"Unlikely. This cabin is isolated, and there are no dangerous creatures in this area beyond wolves and bears, but…"

Ilise trailed off, and exchanged a look with her fellow Sentinel.

"But?" Varian prompted.

"With respect, Your Majesty, the Archdruid Stormrage indicated that both you and your lady have something of a… a knack for trouble," Arythe finished.

She looked slightly uncertain, as if she thought that Varian might rebuke her for the observation, but even he could not deny that she had a point. He glanced over at Auriana, who was biting back a smile, and he shrugged.

"I suppose we can hardly argue with that," he admitted, bending down to store the little owl in the side pocket of his pack. "Thank you."

"Is there anything else you require, Majesties?" Ilise asked.

"No, I think we can manage on our own from here. You have my sincere gratitude for your assistance this evening," Varian said quickly.

He sincerely tried not to sound _too_ eager to be rid of the elven escort, though he wasn't sure how well he succeeded. Thankfully, the two Sentinels appeared to have no intention of staying longer than was strictly necessary. They bowed and departed, and Varian and Auriana were left alone together at long last.

Varian let out a sigh deep satisfaction as he reached up to remove his crown and unclasp his heavy cloak from his shoulders, and he watched Auriana closely as she moved to warm her frigid hands beside the hearth. The night elves had gone above and beyond Varian's expectations in having the cabin prepared, though he wasn't quite sure whether Auriana would be impressed. She wasn't the type of woman who liked to be fussed over, and he wondered if she might not find it all a bit too much.

"Do you like it?" he asked worriedly.

"It's wonderful," she assured him, her eyes sparkling with genuine joy. "I've never seen anyplace quite so… romantic. Really, Varian, it's… it's more than I could have ever asked for."

Auriana turned slowly in a circle, tilting her head back as she admired her new surrounds. Like most night elf dwellings, the cabin was open plan, with the enormous bed taking up most of the available space. Discreet, carved wooden screens walled off what Varian presumed was some kind of bathchamber, while on the other side of the bed he could see several low slung chaises decorated with an alarmingly high number of silk pillows. The bed itself looked out towards a long, open-sided balcony that extended right out over the lake; the water shifting and glittering beneath the light of countless stars. It was altogether a softer place than he was used to, but Auriana appeared to be thoroughly delighted, and that was all that mattered.

Varian remained silent as Auriana slipped her own cloak from about her shoulders, and turned away from the fire to lay the garment gently on the bed. Once again, he was struck by the ethereal elegance of her gown, and the way it perfectly complemented her natural beauty. If he were being completely honest with himself, he ideally preferred her with no clothes on _at all_ , but in this case, he thought he might make an exception.

"So," Auriana said finally, hugging her arms around her slender body as she caught his heated gaze, "What now?"

"Anything you like, really," Varian said. "We could talk... there's some wine over in the corner… or we could…"

He trailed off and gestured vaguely between them, his heart already beating faster at the thought of taking her as his wife for the first time. Auriana, however, did not appear to share his eagerness, judging from her burning cheeks and her suddenly averted gaze.

"Are you alright?" he asked, unsure what to make of her reaction.

After all, it wasn't as if they had never been intimate together before. His _first_ wedding night had been decidedly awkward affair, given that he and Tiffin had never previously shared a bed, but he had thought that this time around would be different.

"You look… nervous," he added. "Do I frighten you? I know that tonight carries certain… _expectations_ … but if you would prefer that we didn't…"

"No, no, it isn't that. I definitely want… _that_ …" Auriana said quickly. "It's just…"

"Yes?" he prompted, stepping forward to clasp her shoulders between his broad palms.

"It's almost unreal, being here with you. As… as your wife," she whispered. "It feels… different, somehow. I've got butterflies…"

She touched a hand to her stomach, and glanced up at him with a small smile.

"You must think I'm being ridiculous."

"Never," Varian murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. "Why don't you take a seat? I'll get you something to drink."

The sweet wine varietals favoured by night elves did not sit well with Varian's palate, but he knew that Auriana quite enjoyed them. He stepped away to pour her a generous glass, before hastening back to her side and joining her upon the edge of the bed. The need to stay close to her was all but overwhelming, and Varian found being even so much as ten feet away from her to be ten feet too far.

Auriana accepted the drink with a grateful smile, though she took only a single sip before setting her glass aside.

"No good?" Varian asked, reaching out to caress the bare skin of her upper back. "The elvish stuff's not to my taste, but I was under the impression you rather liked it…"

"I do. I just…"

She sighed, and stared down at her hands.

"Nothing happened."

Varian raised his eyebrows, and let out a quiet snort of bemusement.

"I'd hardly call our wedding _nothing_ , Auriana…"

"You know what I mean. No assassins, or demons, or chaos…" she explained hurriedly. "I-I think a part of me thought that this could never happen. That you and I were a dream, doomed never to be reality."

Auriana glanced up at him shyly, and the look of sheer and utter _relief_ on her face was enough to give Varian pause. In her eyes, he saw that there really was a part of her that had believed their love to be an impossibility, and had never truly dared to hope. Of course, he could hardly blame her, having felt much the same only hours before, but in finally wedding her he felt as if the weight of a great curse had been lifted from his shoulders.

"I'll admit, I've had similar thoughts," he murmured, idly tangling his fingers in the lengths of her hair. "I thought I'd had my chance. I thought myself too old - too _broken_ \- to even _know_ something as beautiful as you again in my lifetime… much less to have you as my own…"

He brushed a tender kiss against her pale shoulder, and a shiver rippled down the line of her back. It never ceased to amaze him how sensitive she was to his touch, and he buried his face longingly into the soft curve of her neck.

"I meant every word of my vows, you know," he added, his already throaty voice muffled further by the press of her skin against his lips. "Every word."

Varian folded one of Auriana's small hands gently in his, and for a few moments they simply sat together in tender silence. It was strange, he thought, how much joy and comfort he took from such a small act, and he realised that he would be quite content to spend the rest of the night simply sitting next to her and holding her hand. He nuzzled further into her neck with a soft, satisfied growl, when he noticed that her entire body had begun to shake and tremble beneath his touch.

"Auri?"

He sat up straighter and turned her chin towards him, and was surprised to see that her enormous blue eyes were filled with tears.

"Did… did I say something wrong?" he asked urgently.

"Oh, no… no, of course not," she said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and brushed awkwardly at her eyes with the back of her free hand.

"I never thought I would ever be this happy on my life, and it's all… it's all because of y-you…" she stammered. "And now we're here, in such a beautiful place, and it's all just so…"

Auriana abruptly leaned forward and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her small body against his with a desperate intensity. Varian wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, stroking her hair soothingly as she shivered in his embrace. She was not sad, he understood, but merely overwhelmed by what amounted to months and months of pent-up anticipation, fear, and worry. The wedding had undoubtedly brought all those feelings to the fore, and now that it was over, she needed time to process those emotions and let them go. Varian himself had experienced something very similar during his hunt the eve before the wedding, and he was more than happy to hold Auriana as she at long last permitted herself a cathartic release.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled finally. "I'm sure this is not how you pictured your wedding night, holding your weeping wife in your arms."

"So long as they are tears of joy, and not the result of some sort of horrified realisation that you've just made a very grave mistake," Varian snorted.

His self-deprecation was enough to earn him a short laugh, and when she pulled away, he was pleased to see the faintest hint of a smile touching her features. He brushed the tears from her eyes with a calloused thumb, and pressed a reassuring kiss against her forehead.

"I have something for you," he recalled suddenly, hoping to lighten her mood. "It's traditional for me to offer you a gift to mark the occasion of our union. Supposed to be jewellery or a dress or something, but… I had another idea."

He carefully extricated himself from her grasp and rose to his feet, and rummaged around in his bags to find a long, slender object that had been loosely folded in protective cloth.

"It's not really wrapped, I'm afraid," he said, shaking a rueful hand through the back of his hair as he held it out towards her.

"Wrapping gifts does not appear to be a strength of your bloodline," Auriana agreed, nodding.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, smiling to herself as she accepted the package and laid it carefully across her lap.

Her expression grew curious as she gently parted the cloth, and her mouth fell open in surprise as she revealed an elegant, keen-edged sword. It was far finer a blade than anything Varian would have wielded himself, but for someone as small as Auriana, it was both perfectly sized and balanced. In having it forged, Varian had taken some inspiration from lightweight elvish weapons, though it was still of a distinctly human design. The blade flared out before the crossguard, curving in slightly through its midsection before arching back out into a refined and extremely sharp point. It was at once both beautiful and deadly, much like Auriana herself, and Varian was extremely pleased to have been able to present her with such a well-crafted weapon.

Unlike most normal swords, however, the blade was also heavily enchanted. Bands of pure white energy ran through the core of the blade, emanating from a similarly coloured crystal imbedded in the pommel. It had been important to Varian that the blade reflect Auriana's magical skills, as well as her physical prowess. He was extraordinarily proud of her abilities, and he wanted the entire world to know just how powerful and formidable she truly was.

Varian _had_ wondered whether he should get her something more traditional, like a necklace or some other sort of pretty trinket, but in the end he had decided that such things did not adequately reflect the things he most admired about her. Not that she wasn't pretty, of course - he thought her the most beautiful woman in the world - but that wasn't what made her special. He loved to spar and fight with her, as odd as that may have seemed to anyone else; loved the time they spent teasing and testing and challenging one another in the arena. It was one of the few places in the world where he felt like his truest self, and he hoped that Auriana would understand that the sword was not only a practical gift, but a token of his most sincere gratitude and regard.

"You've been working so hard, I thought it was about time you had a proper weapon of your own," he explained, watching Auriana closely as she ran her fingers along the length of the blade.

He couldn't quite tell if she were pleased, however, judging from the expression on her face.

"It's enchanted," she murmured. "Jaina's work?"

"Khadgar, actually. He was most eager to assist," Varian said. "You'll have to talk to him if you wanted specifics. He tried to explain it to me, but I will confess I may have… drifted off while he was speaking."

He made a face.

"Something about an… empowered… crystallised… mana… _something_. Is that even close to right?"

"Ah… no," Auriana said.

She shook her head slightly, and gave him a sweet, patient smile.

"Fortunately for us both, you have other talents…"

Varian barked out a laugh at her gentle teasing, and resumed his seat at her side.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "If there is something you would prefer, you need only ask, but I thought…"

Auriana held up a small hand to cut him off, and her smile widened.

"I love it, Varian," she whispered, just as he had hoped. "Believe me, if I were not in a wedding dress…"

She mimed making a pass with the sword, the blade catching the candlelight and sending dark shadows dancing across her pale skin. Her pale cheeks were flushed with delight, and she held her new weapon with as much care as she would have shown the finest jewel.

"All the greatest swords have names, you know," he prompted. "Frostmourne, Felo'Melorn, Ashbringer…"

"Shalamayne," she added, her eyes sparkling with affection. "The greatest of them all."

"Quite right," he grinned. "In the case of _your_ blade, however, I thought perhaps… Fury."

Auriana's smile faded slightly at his words, and she let out a soft sigh. She had a very complex relationship with the tempestuous rage that lurked deep in her heart, and Varian once again wondered if he had made an error in judgement. He refused to believe that her berserker tendencies were anything to be ashamed of, and in naming the sword he had hoped to remind her of the same.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that Auriana did not see things in quite so positive a light.

"Or… perhaps something else…" he suggested hurriedly. "If you didn't like it…"

"No," she said, shaking her head firmly. "It's perfect, actually."

She laid the sword carefully on the bed beside her, and reached out to take one of Varian's hands between her own. They were a study in contrasts, he thought, the pale silk of her skin stark against his own ruddy, weathered hands, but at the same time they somehow fit together as if they had been made to do so.

"If I'm even half the warrior you are someday, I will be very proud indeed," she smiled.

"Auriana. You are a hundred times the warrior I'll ever be," he countered seriously, raising their linked hands to kiss the back of her knuckles. "You can do things I could never dream of. Things that _most_ people could never dream of..."

"It's not the same thing. And as you're so fond of telling me when we're fighting in the arena, magic's cheating."

She smiled, and rested her head lovingly against his shoulder.

"And it's more than that. You have a good heart, Varian Wrynn…"

"Hmph. Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain," he growled, cocking an eyebrow at her with mock seriousness. "Now. Are we just going to sit around complimenting one another all night?"

"I can think of worse ways to spend an evening," Auriana said, shrugging.

"True, though I can think of a few better ways, too…"

Varian walked his fingers up the line of her arm as he spoke, his featherlight touch sending pebbled gooseflesh rippling across her skin.

"Is that so?"

"Mmm," Varian rumbled, stroking the line of her jaw with his thumb. "I've been waiting to have you as my wife for a _very_ long time, you know..."

"Would… do you mind waiting a little while longer?" Auriana asked, her expression suddenly uncertain. "I brought something for you, too. A gift, I mean."

She abruptly released his hand, and reached for the strange rectangular package that she had brought with her from Stormwind.

"You didn't have get me anything," Varian murmured, somewhat surprised by her consideration.

It wasn't that Auriana wasn't a generous person, far from it, but rather that he had never really thought of himself as the type of person that one ought to give to presents _to_. He also considered Auriana the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive, though he was somewhat curious to see what she had brought.

"But I wanted to," she insisted. "Please."

She pressed the gift into Varian's hands, and he realised that it was a painting of some sort, judging from the ridges of the frame beneath his fingers. He wondered vaguely whether she had ordered a commissioned work of the two of them together - or even a portrait of Anduin - but as he carefully peeled back the paper wrappings, he abruptly realised that Auriana had not brought him something new, but rather something very _old_.

Much to Varian's shock, he recognised the painting immediately - after all, it had hung in his chambers for years as a child. It depicted both his mother and his father, resplendent in their royal finery… and Varian himself; a bright-eyed, tumble-haired boy of perhaps eight years old.

"It… it's…"

"It's not a replica," Auriana said quickly. "You can see some of the smoke damage in the corner, actually…"

Varian looked to where she pointed, and for a split second, he was a child again; screaming and crying as his city burned down around him. As he stared into the painted eyes of his mother, however, he recalled the far happier memories of sneaking an apple pie from the kitchens to share with her, or crossing a wooden practice blade with his father for the first time...

"It can't be…" he gasped.

Although it had been years since his two selves had been reintegrated, there were still times that Varian doubted his memory of everything that had happened before his schism. Onyxia's magic had been strong, and there were many things in his past that no sane man would wish to remember. But in seeing the painting there… in holding the tangible proof that he had once been whole and carefree… it meant more than he thought even Auriana truly understood.

" _How_?" he whispered.

Auriana folded her hands carefully in her lap, and took a brief moment to gather her thoughts before she spoke.

"I don't know all the details, but… from what I learned… when Stormwind fell, a great many looters smuggled artifacts from the city as they fled. Perhaps they thought to sell them later, to make some quick coin, I'm not sure," she said slowly. " _This_ painting, however, ended up in the hands of a collector in Lordaeron."

She paused, and stared down at the artwork with a thoughtful expression.

"Following the end of the Second War, when the Stormwind refugees came south to rebuild the city, the collector settled in Redridge," she continued. "He lived there until his death, at which time his collection was passed on to his only son… who, as it turns out, lives in Old Town."

"How do you know all of this?" Varian wondered, amazed. "I don't… how did you know where to start looking… how did you know it even _existed_?"

"Well, I didn't, at least not at first," Auriana admitted, tilting her head to one side. "I learned all of this after I discovered the painting's existence through my contacts in the Black Market."

"You have contacts in the Black Market?" Varian asked, though he wasn't entirely surprised by her resourcefulness.

"I spent a lot of time in Pandaria. It was a long war, and sometimes I needed things that I couldn't quickly obtain through official Alliance channels," she explained. "Nothing illegal, mind you."

"I see..." Varian murmured.

He stared down at the painting, and carefully traced his fingers across the timeworn parchment. He remembered sitting for the portrait as if it were yesterday; remembered the wry amusement in his mother's voice as she admonished him to sit still, and the way Llane had laughed and ruffled his hair. At the time, he had found the whole process intolerably dull, but now he was incredibly grateful for his mother's insistence.

Unfortunately, Auriana seemed to have taken his abrupt silence as some sort of censure, and she frowned.

"Do you know how hard it is to find a gift for a King? A man who has, quite literally, everything?" she fretted, nervously biting her lower lip. "I turned to the Black Market because I was out of ideas… and frankly, glad I did. If I hadn't, the painting might have been lost to history as second time, left to gather dust in someone's cellar..."

In truth, Varian was simply so stunned that he didn't know what to say - which was in itself a rather novel experience. He certainly didn't want Auriana to mistake his shock and disbelief for a lack of gratitude, however, and he quickly shook his head.

"Auri… I'm not mad. I'm… astounded, really. The lengths you've gone to bring this to me… I... _thank you_."

"What else could I do?" she said simply, shrugging. "It's you."

Her defensive posture softened, and she moved closer to stand by his side.

"How on earth did it come into your possession?" Varian asked.

"The collector died around six months ago. His son did not quite share his passion for history, though he _is_ very fond of gold. I believe he was quite concerned about the… _legality_ … of some of the items now in his possession, and therefore decided against selling the collection through more traditional means," Auriana said. "He was willing to sell it to me at quite a reasonable price, provided I kept his identity a secret."

She touched his shoulder, and her brow creased in a slight frown.

"It's alright? You like it? I didn't want to bring up painful memories, but I thought it ought to be returned to you, where it belongs..."

"Auri, it's wonderful. Really. I'm grateful beyond words," he assured her, swallowing back a sudden lump in his throat. "I only wish my mother and father could have been here today. They would have loved you."

"And mine you," she murmured, her lips twisting upwards in a bittersweet smile.

Something shifted behind her deep blue eyes, and Varian suddenly very much wanted to kiss her. He rested the treasured painting gently against the foot of the bed, and reached out to pull her down into his waiting arms.

Auriana came willingly, half-leaning, half-falling into his embrace as he slid his hands into her hair and gently pulled her mouth down to meet his. At first their kisses were slow and loving, only to grow more and more heated as Varian lost himself in the pleasure of holding his new wife. Auriana's beauty had sorely tested him ever since the first moment she had entered the Cathedral, and Varian found his desire mounting with each and every kiss.

He pressed her back down into the softness of the bed, rolling over so that she was pinned firmly beneath him. It was a somewhat awkward maneuver, given that he was still wearing his bulky armour, but Varian didn't care. All that mattered was _her_ ; the feel of her body taut and arched beneath him, and the sound of her soft sighs against his lips...

Growling deep in his throat, Varian slid his hand up Auriana's leg - only to discover that it was nearly impossible to find her skin beneath the immense amount of fabric that made up the skirt of her dress.

"If you tear it... I'll have your head…" she whispered.

Over the course of their time together, Varian had ripped more than a few of her dresses in his eagerness to see her naked. He had always apologised, of course, and offered to procure replacements, but he always found it very hard to feel remorseful when the reward for his impatience was always so magnificent. Auriana never seemed to _truly_ mind, though he suspected she might be a little less tolerant if he were to destroy her wedding dress.

"Sounding like a queen already," he observed, running his fingers lightly across the line of her collarbone.

"Why don't you let me get out of this dress… and then you can show me what it means to be your wife, just like you said…?" she suggested. "No ripping or tearing necessary."

"Promise?"

Auriana's already beaming smile widened, and she nodded.

"It won't take long," she assured him.

Varian was loathe to pull away, but he nevertheless complied with Auriana's request; rolling his weight to the side so that she could stand. She rose gracefully from the bed - an impressive feat in itself, considering how she was encumbered by her dress - and quickly disappeared behind the wooden privacy screen at the back of the cabin.

Varian lay on his back for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the drumming of his own excitable heartbeat in his ears. He then realised that he was still fully armoured, and decided that he ought to use the time alone to remove his own cumbersome clothing. He stripped off his armour and boots series of swift, practiced movements, so that he was left clad only in his loose drawers, before stretching out upon one of the chaises to wait.

A few minutes passed; then five; then ten, and Varian began to wonder whether Auriana had simply been swallowed up by all that fabric. She had not called for his assistance, however, and he knew from past experience that she did not appreciate being cosseted when she had not expressly asked for help.

Instead, Varian resisted temptation, folded his long arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Not even two years ago, if anyone had told him that he would one day take a second wife, he would have laughed in their face. But Auriana had somehow found a way into his heart, even without trying, and now he could not imagine life without her. She understood him in a way that he could scarcely believe, _knew_ the truth of him better than anyone else, and yet for some unfathomable reason, she loved him anyway...

"Varian?"

The soft sound of his name broke Varian out of his reverie, and he opened his eyes. He sat up...

… and immediately felt his heart stop in his chest.

As expected, Auriana was no longer wearing her wedding dress, though he had certainly _not_ expected to see her standing before him wearing a set of sheer, lacy negligee. The gossamer fabric looked as if it had been woven from moonlight itself, and it slipped over her silver skin like water as she slowly crossed the room towards him. The lace bodice cut low over her firm, full breasts, taunting Varian with the way it somehow revealed and concealed all at once. The hem grazed the very tops of Auriana' thighs, teasing the line of some _very_ scanty undergarments beneath, and she had let her hair loose to tumble wild and free across her shoulders. To finish the picture, a silken bow had been tied just below the curve of her breasts; altogether making her look like the most wonderful, tantalising gift Varian had ever received.

The garment had clearly been designed to entice and seduce - and Varian had to admit it was doing so with remarkable efficacy. His hands began to shake as he imagined untying the bow and sliding the lace down Auriana's body, and he found that his throat had gone completely and utterly dry. He had always secretly wanted to see her in such an ensemble, but he had always thought her too shy and too insecure about her own body to have tried.

"You… I… _what_?" he stammered. "What are you wearing?"

Auriana flushed brilliant crimson, and she stared down at the floor as she spoke.

"It's… it's our wedding night; I thought I might try something… different, I suppose. I thought I might… I don't know, seduce you…"

"Seduce me?""I wanted to make things special, so I asked Jaina for help. She suggested… well… this," Auriana explained, gesturing up and down her body.

Varian's ears burned hot, and his mind was so clouded with lust that he could barely think straight. He genuinely _tried_ to speak, but all that came out was something halfway between a grunt and a desperate, throaty whine.

"You don't like it," Auriana whispered, looking mortified. "I told Jaina it was stupid, I shouldn't have…"

Her face fell, and she made an awkward and largely unsuccessful attempt to cover her body with her hands.

"No!"

Varian lunged upright as she began to turn away, catching her by the arm and cutting her off with a swift, bruising kiss.

" _No_ ," he repeated forcefully. "I like it. I… believe me, like is not nearly strong enough a word..."

He kissed her again, and slid one hand beneath the flowing hemline of her negligee to cup the soft curve of her rear.

"Jaina's idea, you say?" he murmured, trying to force his trembling fingers to stay still. "Remind me to send her flowers every week for the rest of her life..."

"You _do_ like it…"

Auriana's nose crinkled in confusion, and she looked at once both bewildered and flattered by the vehemence of his response. She was not entirely comfortable, he could tell, but she slowly moved her hands from around her body so that Varian could admire her negligee to full effect. Her eyes shone with love as she stared up at him, and Varian found her willingness to appear so vulnerable before him to be even more enticing than her physical beauty.

"Auri… how is it, after all this time, that you still have no idea what you do to me?"

"W-what is it that I do to you?" she asked, shyly running her fingers across the breadth of his chest.

"You make my throat go dry…" Varian whispered huskily, pressing another kiss against her already swollen lips.

"And?"

"You make my heart beat faster…"

He drew her hard against his hips to emphasise his point, so that she might better feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressed firm against her belly, and he grinned wolfishly to himself as he felt her tremble in response.

"You make me forget to breathe…"

His hands slid to Auriana's waist, ready to lift her up and carry her to the bed so that he might do all sorts of delightful things to her, but she stopped him with a small shake of her head.

"No?"

"I told you," Auriana murmured. " _I'm_ seducing _you_."

She placed a tiny, pale hand in the centre of his chest, and pushed back against him with surprising strength. The back of Varian's legs hit the chaise, and he allowed himself to tumble down onto the waiting softness of the elven lounge.

Auriana stood above him, the dark tendrils of her hair slipping down across the bare skin of her shoulders and breasts, and a slow, coy smile spread across her face. It was all Varian could do not to reach for her, but he respected her wishes and remained still as she leaned forward and brushed a slow, tantalising kiss against his lips. There was a strange fire in her eyes that he had never seen before; not confidence or self-assuredness, precisely, but a quiet sensuality borne of her unshakable trust in him.

Varian inhaled sharply as Auriana's fingers found the catch of his drawers, and in no time at all she had stripped him bare. It was a strange thing, he thought, to find himself so completely at her mercy. He was typically the one who took control in their lovemaking; in part because of Auriana's shyness, and in part because his lust for her had a tendency to bring the untamed, wolfish side of his nature to the fore. Varian also supposed that it was rather difficult for a man with his past to be entirely vulnerable before another person… but Auriana was not just any other person. He trusted her just as much as she trusted him - more than anyone else he had ever met - and with a deep sigh, he allowed himself to surrender fully to her tender exploration of his body.

Varian did not consider himself to be an especially handsome man, but he could see that Auriana found his physique pleasing. Her eyes swept hungrily over him from head to toe, and his muscles clenched in breathless anticipation as she licked her lips and gave him the kind of shy, promising smile that set his blood on fire.

Auriana reached out to caress the side of his face, her fingers cool and soft against the roughness of his stubble. She leaned in, giving Varian an entrancing glimpse of her breasts, and placed a series of featherlight kisses along the hard line of his jaw where her fingers had traced a path only moments ago.

On and on shr went, her fingers slowly making their way down his neck and torso, with her lips following close in their wake. Her touch was lighter than air, but it was still more than enough to set Varian's limbs shaking with pleasure and need. She seemed to grow more confident in her seduction with each husky moan her actions tore from his throat, and by the time her fingers closed tauntingly around the hardened flesh of his erection, Varian thought he might just about burst.

The feel of her hands alone was enough to drive him absolutely wild, but it seemed that Auriana had other ideas. Varian could have sworn he almost blacked out a moment later as she lowered her head, and flicked her tongue tentatively along the length of his manhood. His hips bucked involuntarily upwards, and his hands tangled in her hair in a feverish, instinctual attempt draw her closer.

" _Light_ , woman…" he snarled, biting down on his lip so hard he drew blood.

Auriana had never dared take him in such a fashion, and Varian had never asked or insisted; conscious as he was of both her autonomy and her comfort. As it turned out, however, she was an _exceedingly_ fast learner, and Varian's breath soon came in short, harsh gasps as she worked him ragged.

Encouraged by his response, Auriana's once tentative ministrations grew slowly bolder, and within mere minutes she had Varian shaking and grunting beneath her like a wild beast. Her mouth was soft and wet and so damn _warm_ , that if not for the metallic tang of his own blood against his lips, Varian would have thought that he had died and found himself in some kind of heaven. He closed his eyes, clenching one hand over the back of chaise with a white-knuckled grip, and it was only through sheer force of will that he manage to hold himself back from the edge.

Nevertheless, it was not a battle he could win forever; not when Auriana was tormenting him so beautifully, and Varian knew himself well enough to know that it would not be long before she unravelled him completely. He was not, however, willing to surrender just quite yet. He _needed_ Auriana; needed to be one with her in a way that he never had before. Far beyond his lust or physical desire - though both were considerable - he wanted to connect with the woman he loved as closely as two people could possibly be. As unbelievably pleasurable as her attentions were, in a moment of sharp, primal clarity, he decided that he wanted to be inside her, and that nothing less would do

Growling fiercely between his teeth, he pulled Auriana with him as he suddenly stood, sliding his hand to the back of her knees and lifting her easily into he air.

"Varian…?"

Her eyes widened in uncertainty, as if she thought she might have done something wrong, though of course nothing could have been further grin the truth.

"My turn," Varian panted, his voice raw and husky as he bore her down to the bed.

He remembered back to the very first time they had made love, when he had all but fallen upon her with a blind, primal desperation. A similar urgency had been threatening to overtake him all night, and he no longer had it with in him to resist. Fortunately, the part of him that was still capable of rational thought still had the wherewithal to remember to push Auriana's new sword out of the way so that neither of them were at risk of injury, though he paid it little more mind as he began to remove her lacy negligee.

It was a magnificent garment, admittedly, but it was nothing compared to the natural silkiness of Auriana's bare skin. Varian slid his fingers beneath the bow tied beneath her breasts, and freed the knot with an impatient flick of his wrist. He then slid the lace fabric up the taut skin of her belly and over her head, and he growled in satisfaction as the full beauty of her naked body was revealed to him at last.

The air was thick with the sweet, heady scent of her lust, and her cheeks flushed dark with pleasure as Varian slipped two long fingers between her thighs. She was already soaking wet, and she closed her eyes and knotted her hands in the silk sheets as Varian teased and stroked her needy sex. After all, she had taken the time to reduce him to little more than a sweaty, aching mess, and he figured it was only courteous to return the favour.

It seemed that she had grown just as impatient as he, however, and she submitted to his attentions for only a few minutes before she was begging for him to take her properly.

"Varian… please… I need _you_ …" she whimpered, reaching out to tug insistently at his hair.

"Then look at me."

Varian reached out to grasp Auriana gently by the throat, and he used his thumb to turn her chin towards him. Her eyes flicked open; dark with love, and lust, and some other powerful, heated emotion that he couldn't quite place.

"I love you," he mumbled hoarsely. "More than… more than anything…"

" _Show_ me…"

Her heated, breathy request was all the invitation Varian would ever need, and a triumphant shudder rolled down the length of his back as he finally buried himself deep within the warmth of her sex. No matter how many times they had made love, the moment of their first joining always felt to him as if he had reached the end of long journey; a lost and weary traveller having finally found his way home.

Varian let out a low, throaty groan, and slid one hand beneath Auriana's rear to raise her hips and draw her in as close as possible. His other hand found the back of her neck, cradling her against his body as he hilted himself inside her over and over again. Auriana responded in kind, arching and crying out his name, as her trembling body met him thrust for thrust.

She had been so shy, so _uncertain_ , the first time he had taken her as his own, but there was no trace of that hesitation in her now. Out here, alone in the wilds of Azeroth, with not another living soul for miles, the last of her inhibitions fell away, and Varian found himself falling even more deeply in love with her as she surrendered herself to him completely.

They moved together perfectly, even despite their considerable size difference, and Varian couldn't help but to feel as if she had been made for him, and him alone. He had never really been the sort to believe in destiny, but as he made love to his wife with his entire body and soul, he wondered if perhaps the hand of fate had decided to at long last turn in his favour. He was hers, he knew, with more certainly than he had known anything in his entire life, and she was his.

Forever.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Sorry for the delay on this one - between BFA launch, work and some rather annoying medical stuff I've been flat out. I hope you've all been having an amazing time in the new expansion!**

 **Mature content warning ahead. Enjoy!**

 **Auriana**

Auriana rolled onto her back and wriggled her toes beneath the impossibly soft silken sheets, as the morning sun roused her from a long and satisfying sleep. The sunlight in Teldrassil was far softer than she was used to, filtered as it was through the upper branches of the colossal World Tree, though it was still bright enough to bring a gentle warmth to her skin. The air was brisk, but not cold, and outside she could see a gentle breeze rippling across the glasslike surface of the lake.

To her left, Varian lay sprawled across a good three-quarters of the bed, his mighty chest rising and falling as he snored. He lay flat on his back, his arms and legs splayed haphazardly, and he appeared to be blissfully unaware of the rest of the rest of the world around him. It was rare that Varian ever truly let his guard down, but it seemed that being in an isolated cabin dozens of miles away from any other civilisation was finally enough to allow him to relax.

Auriana watched him for a few moments, openly admiring his musculature and the handsome cut of his jaw. She knew every inch of his body as well as she knew her own - from the top of his unruly hair to the tiny scar that bridged the big toe off his left foot - and yet was still unreal to her that they were married. Not least because she had never imagined herself marrying anyone, let alone the King of Stormwind. Being with Varian, however, was as natural to her as breathing, and she could no longer imagine a life without him.

After a few minutes of lying still in silent adoration, Auriana sat up, stretching out her neck and rubbing a hand along her stiff calves. She'd worn heeled shoes to the wedding in a vain attempt not to look quite so ridiculous standing at Varian's side, but the effort of walking and dancing for hours had left her legs tired and sore. With that said, Auriana had never felt so genuinely beautiful as she had wearing her wedding dress, and she thought that some aching muscles were a small price to pay.

Auriana rose to her feet, moving slowly and quietly so as not to stir Varian from his slumber. Regardless of how loudly as he was snoring, she had learned long ago that he could be woken from a deep sleep by the slightest movement or noise, and she had to be very careful if she were to successfully wriggle free.

It took some effort, but eventually Auriana managed to stand and slide one of the silk sheets from the bed without rousing him, and wrapped it carefully around her naked body. She then stepped out onto the long, open-sided balcony that stretched out across the lake, being careful not to trip over her new sword and the various pieces of Varian's armour that lay strewn across the floor.

The breeze was stronger out here, lifting her dark hair and sending a few stray tendrils tickling across the tip of her nose. Faint birdsong echoed through the trees, and at the edge of the lake she saw a graceful doe and her fawn come to drink. It was an idyllic scene, almost reminiscent of a painting, and Auriana vaguely wondered whether she was still dreaming as she leaned up against a nearby column to admire the view.

From the position of the sun overhead, she guessed it was nearly midday, though the towering branches of Teldrassil made it somewhat difficult to tell. It was unusual that she and Varian had slept so long, and yet Auriana was very glad that they had. She had sorely needed the rest, not only because of the wedding, but because of the long, stressful lead up to the day itself. Varian had also been _very_ thorough in making love to her, and it had been nearly dawn by the time he was finally satisfied that she truly knew what it meant to be his wife.

Auriana smiled to herself as she recalled the warmth of his hands on her body, and the thrill of him moving inside her. Last night had been both wonderfully new and comfortingly familiar, all at the same time, and she had never wanted it to end. Varian had a way of making her feel as if she were the only other person in the world, the entire centre of his universe, and as terrified as she was of the fact that she was now the _Queen of Stormwind_ , she felt as if she could do anything so long as he was by her side...

"Tell me, Auriana, why is that I have awoken to find that you are not in my bed, where you belong?"

Startled from her reverie, Auriana glanced back over her shoulder, and saw Varian standing a few feet away with his hands resting firmly on his hips. He was completely naked, without so much as a sheet for modesty, and Auriana immediately felt her cheeks and ears blaze red. No matter how many times she had seen him bare, there was still something so powerful and so intensely _masculine_ about his body that she couldn't help but to colour at the mere sight of him.

At the same time, however, she had no desire to look away. Varian's muscles were so well defined that they almost looked as if they had been chiseled from marble, and he moved with the deadly grace of an alpha predator.

"Auri?"

She blinked, and realised that she had been so lost in her admiration of his physical form that she hadn't really listened to a word he was saying.

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to answer my question?" Varian asked, the richness of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

"What? Oh! I just… needed to stretch my legs…" she mumbled.

"I see. And are you going to blush like that every time you see me naked for the rest of your life?"

Varian had clearly noticed her staring, but his stern expression gave nothing of his reaction away.

"Probably," she admitted.

"Hmph. Good."

Varian linked both hands behind his head and flexed, ostensibly under the guise of stretching his muscles after a long night of sleep. Auriana could tell from his sly smirk, however, that he was very much doing it to provoke her; to make her blush grow even darker and to make her squirm beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"Stop it," she muttered, trying to bite back a wave of nervous, excited giggles.

"Stop what?" Varian asked, his face the picture of innocence as he tightened the muscles of his chest even further, and very deliberately made his biceps twitch.

The movement of his chest had a rather interesting follow-on effect to the rest of his anatomy, and Auriana suddenly found herself struggling to look him in the eye. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

" _Stop it_!" she laughed.

"Why? Here I was thinking you thought me rather handsome!" Varian exclaimed, clearly doing his best to look affronted. "Am I mistaken?"

"Varian! No!" she protested, "It's not _that_. You know it's not that…"

"Then what?"

Auriana bit down hard upon her lower lip, trying to hold focus long enough to get her thoughts in order. Varian was not a vain man, but it seemed he was not entirely unaware of the effect he on her, either. He most definitely knew how to use his exquisite musculature to attract her attention, and it was only by staring up at the ceiling that she was able to speak.

"Something… something Tess asked me. When we were playing our little games on our night out…" she explained, trying her best to ignore the burning heat rising in her cheeks.

"Tess? Tess Greymane?" Varian repeated. "What did she ask you?"

"Well… we were - I was very drunk, Varian - and she asked… ah… how… um… _big_ … you were," Auriana said, stumbling over the words as she gestured vaguely to his exposed lower half.

Varian blinked, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. His gaze turned downwards, and he stared at his own anatomy in mild bewilderment. For a brief moment, Auriana thought he might be angry or offended by Tess' brazenness, but instead he threw his head back and roared with laughter loud enough to shake the entire cabin.

"Genn's got his hands full with that one," he snorted. "I hope you told her the truth, by the way."

Auriana wasn't sure what she had expected him to say, but it hadn't been that.

"The… the truth?"

"Yes," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That I'm magnificent. Majestic. Eye-watering. Nothing short of godlike, perhaps?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, as if he were considering a very serious matter of state.

"Maybe that's going a step too far. How about we settle on… awe-inspiring?" he suggested, cocking one eyebrow and giving her his most charming grin.

Auriana's nose crinkled in delight, and she found she was smiling so broadly that it made her cheeks hurt. It was a rare and precious thing to see Varian so playful; so unencumbered by the trauma of his past and the weight of his crown. He was not a humourless bore, as so many people would have liked to believe, but nor was he typically irreverent. He was only like this with _her_ , too, Auriana knew, for no other reason than because he loved to make her laugh, and she was incredibly humbled by his willingness to appear so vulnerable before her.

"Yes," she agreed, "I _am_ in awe of you."

Varian's roguish grin widened, and he stepped forward to pull Auriana into his arms.

"Bloody hell, Tess," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Surely that girl has better things to think about than a man old enough to be her father."

"I can't really blame her. There's no one better than you," Auriana countered.

Varian laughed again, though the sound was not quite so raucous as before. The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled down at her with unabashed affection, and Auriana's stomach was suddenly alive with eager, trembling butterflies.

"Hmph. Lucky for me, you actually believe that…"

His gaze grew heated, and he reached down to brush a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

It wasn't a question.

"You're not done with me yet?"

Varian slipped a long finger into the crevice between Auriana's breasts, and tugged insistently at the sheet still wrapped around her naked body. It was a small, gentle movement, but Auriana had about as much chance of resisting his silent invitation as she would have had to resist a hurricane. The sheet slid to the floor, and she shivered.

"Oh, I am far from done with you, Auriana Wrynn…"

* * *

The days that followed were the happiest of Auriana's life. At first, she had feared that she would be unable to relax and fully enjoy the honeymoon. She was a person accustomed to _doing_ things; used to always working, or fighting, or finding herself otherwise occupied. Varian was much the same, and she had worried that they would simply run out of things to talk about.

As it turned out, however, her concerns were completely unfounded. While she and Varian were both normally reserved people, when left alone in the wild without the pressures of duty or society, it seemed that they both had rather a lot to say. Even after all this time, Auriana was still surprised by how easy it was to talk to him about anything and everything - and how much he seemed to enjoy talking to _her_. Varian was clever and insightful, and his sly, sarcastic sense of humour never failed to make her laugh. During the day, they also spent time exploring the forest, sparring, and even swimming in the small lake that bordered the cabin. And at night… well, the things they did at night made Auriana's heart beat faster just to think about it...

Today, the sixth day of their honeymoon, they had taken a casual stroll out into the forest, before settling down in a small clearing so that Auriana might practice her archery skills. They were not short on food, Varian having killed a solid buck on their first full day in Teldrassil, but he had nevertheless decided that she ought to know how to shoot a bow well enough that she could one day hunt a deer of her own. Auriana had no particular interest in hunting itself, but she knew that it was a great passion of Varian's, and she was more than happy to indulge him.

To that end, she had spent the last couple of hours peppering the trunk of a large oak with arrows under Varian's watchful gaze. In that time, the sky overhead had gradually darkened with the promise of rain, though she was so focused on her task that she had barely noticed. While Auriana did not necessarily share Varian's enthusiasm, she was not the type of person to back down from a challenge; and certainly not a martial challenge, at that.

Her target was a small circle that Varian had etched in the base of the tree with his knife, about twenty feet away. Not a long shot by any means, but certainly a challenge for a marksman of Auriana's limited experience. She drew the bowstring back to her cheek, and her eyes narrowing slightly as she squared off against her target. She inhaled slowly as she reached the zenith of her pull - and exhaled as she released, just like she had practiced all morning.

And just like she had done all morning, she missed.

Auriana swore beneath her breath, irritated by her own inaccuracy. She'd shot guns in the past, and in combat too, but it seemed that she didn't have quite the same knack for the bow. The elvish weapon she held was far too large for someone of her size, admittedly, but Auriana was not one for making excuses. It also didn't help that she found the overall concept of hunting with a weapon somewhat redundant, given the kinds of thing she could do with her magic.

"You're bored," Varian observed, folding his arms across his chest.

He was leaning up against a tree about ten feet away, watching Auriana's form closely as she practiced. Time away from the city seemed to suit him, and he looked as relaxed as she had ever seen him. His unlaced shirt and loose hair only served to add to the impression, as did the dark shadow of the scruffy beard burgeoning along the line of his jaw, and Auriana doubted anyone would have guessed that he was the High King of the Alliance had they not already known.

"Not bored, precisely," she clarified, "I've just never really seen much point in using a bow and arrow to hunt a deer when I could destroy the entire forest with a snap of my fingers."

To emphasise her point, Auriana reached out a hand and sent a pinpoint streak of arcane magic racing towards the tree. It hit the target dead centre, leaving a small blackened whorl in the bark. She shrugged.

"A fair argument, though I would ask that you _try_ to restrain yourself. I think it would be a poor way to thank our night elf hosts for their hospitality if you were to burn down their tree," Varian said drily.

Auriana rolled her eyes at him, and lowered her bow. Her arms were beginning to tire from lifting the weapon over and over, and as Varian had correctly surmised, she was rapidly losing her patience. She was used to her power being so easy and effortless, and she found it decidedly irksome when she was not so natural at other activities. It was a small thing - a _petty_ thing, perhaps - but if she were going to do something, she liked to damned well do it right.

"We could stop, if you liked?" Varian suggested.

He straightened, and came over so that he might slip his arms around her waist.

"Perhaps a break," she agreed, leaning her head back against his chest and allowing the elvish longbow to tumble from her fingers into the dewy grass.

Auriana felt Varian's muscles vibrate against her back as he let out an answering sigh of satisfaction, and for a moment they simply stood together in companionable silence. The sky above had grown darker, casting strange dappled shadows upon the trees, and the wind was now blowing hard enough to send Auriana's skirts flapping wildly about her ankles. The dim light had turned the leaves above to shades of hazy gold and deep purple, and all together the forest around them felt wild and heavy with anticipation.

Despite the threat of inclement weather, however, Auriana remained unconcerned. They were only about three miles from the cabin, forty-five minutes walk at worst, and even the thought of being soaked through was not enough to move her. Varian's heartbeat rumbled against her back like distant thunder, his arms strong and warm around her body, and it made her feel more comfortable and more at home than anything else in the world.

"Auri…?"

Varian ran his hands over the curve of her waist, and rested his chin on the top of her head. It was one of his favourite ways to hold her, and one of the few things that made Auriana feel like her height - or lack thereof - wasn't an inconvenience or a disadvantage.

"Mm?"

"I know bows and knives and other weapons must all seem a little unnecessary to you, given what you can do… but I thought you were at least enjoying our swordplay?" Varian asked.

There was something uncharacteristically hesitant in his tone, and Auriana somewhat belatedly realised that it was very important to him that she took as much pleasure from their sparring sessions as he did. Admittedly, she _had_ started training with Varian as a means of assuaging his fears for her safety, rather than because of any particular interest she possessed, but over time she had come to enjoy the discipline for its own sake. Swordplay required intelligence, timing, and instinct; all things that Auriana loved about the combat arts - and best of all, it meant more time spent alone with with the man she loved.

"The sword is… far more enjoyable than I thought it might be. I very much like sparring with you," she assured him, twisting slightly so that she could look Varian in the eye. "And I do love beating you up."

"Ha!" he barked, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "You've never beaten me up in your life, woman."

He spun her around to face him, and placed a quick, triumphant kiss on the very tip of her nose.

"And you _never_ will."

Auriana's lips curled into a feral grin, and she very deliberately made her eyes flash with the white-hot, blinding proof of her power.

"Let me use magic, I'll teach you a lesson you won't soon forget, my King."

"A wise warrior knows how to pick his battles," Varian declared. "I'm not that stupid, _Archmage_."

"Could've fooled me," she snorted. "And does it still count as 'picking your battles' when you pick _all of them_?"

In lieu of a comeback, Varian simply growled, and before Auriana could argue the point further, he pulled her mouth down to his for an eager kiss. Which, naturally, Auriana took as conclusive proof of her victory in the argument. She loved the way they bantered, but best of all, she loved it when she _won_.

Auriana grinned against Varian's lips, savouring both her triumph and the taste of him. At first his kisses were quick and playful, a non-verbal continuation of their spirited repartee, though they steadily grew more and more heated. Varian had been especially passionate over the last few days, and he seemed determined to exhaust every last drop of amorous energy that he possessed.

Of course, Auriana did not mind his attentions in the slightest. She had gained a certain confidence in her sexuality over the past few days, perhaps in part as a result of their isolation, and even despite her utter inability to control her blush, she had been bolder in her desires than she ever thought possible. She now returned Varian's rough, urgent kisses with equal ardour, raking her hands through his unbound hair and revelling in the feel of his body against hers.

Auriana lost track of time as they kissed, and she had vaguely begun to wonder whether her king intended to throw her down on the grass and have his way with her, when she was struck by a bolt of wild inspiration - if only she had the courage to ask.

"Varian…"

Auriana pulled away, pressing slightly on his chest to gain some distance, and lifted her chin so that she might look him in the eye.

"What if… what if you were to hunt something a little more interesting than a deer?" she suggested shyly.

"A hunt? You think there are boar out here?" Varian wondered, turning his head to the side to look out into the forest.

He appeared a little confused as to why she would be interested in food at a time like this, but Auriana had a distinctly _different_ kind of hunt in mind.

"Not boar," she said quickly.

"Then what?"

Auriana swallowed in a vain attempt to quell the abrupt dryness that had risen in her throat, and she bit her lip. She had no idea what had inspired this particular idea, only that it was something she wanted very, very badly.

"Me."

Varian eyes widened, and all traces of his earlier playfulness vanished as quickly as if they had never been. He somehow seem to grow even larger as he loomed over her with a swift, stormy intensity that rivalled the swollen clouds above, and she felt as if the entire forest were suddenly devoid of air.

"Auriana… what exactly are you suggesting?"

"Hunt… _me_ ," she repeated, trying not to let her voice shake. "I've seen the King. Show me the Wolf."

Varian grunted softly, but he could not disguise the fast-burning flash of desire that kindled behind his eyes. The idea appealed to him, Auriana could tell, though she wasn't sure if he would ever agree to do as she had asked. She knew there was always a part of him that greatly feared hurting her, and while she also knew he was far from dissatisfied with their lovemaking, she could only recall a handful of times where he had completely and utterly let himself go.

Varian did not say no immediately, however, as Auriana almost half-suspected he would. Instead, he considered the question with an air of calm consideration that belied the hunger in his expression, and the sudden, aching tension in his shoulders.

"And what do I get if I catch you?"

He reached out to caress Auriana's cheek, the heat of his hand almost burning in its intensity. He was trembling slightly, as if the wolf inside was already straining to break free, and his eyes were alive with a thousand different emotions that Auriana couldn't place.

"You know what you get," she murmured.

"It's going to rain soon," he remarked, though he never took his eyes off her face.

"Does it matter?"

Varian let out a long, shaky sigh, and pulled Auriana close against the length of his body. He was already hard, though whether from their kisses or her suggestion, she couldn't tell.

"Do you understand what you're asking of me?"

"I do," she whispered.

"Hmm."

He lips brushed the top of her left ear, and the warmth of his breath against her skin sent shivers up her spine.

"You'd best start running, then," he growled. "Leave the bow."

Auriana didn't need to be asked twice, and she darted off into forest as fast as she could. She fully intended to let Varian catch her, of course, though she also intended to make him work for it first. Although Auriana had never seen him in action herself, she knew that Varian had a reputation as an excellent hunter and tracker, and she wanted to see how long she could evade him.

She struck out to the north, following the line of a wide and well-used game trail. Their cabin lay somewhere to the west, though she did not intended to make her way there immediately lest Varian anticipate her movements. Her initial plan was to disguise her tracks amongst the hoofprints of the deer and other animals that ran the trail northward, before doubling back towards the cabin. Logically, Auriana figured that if she could make it back without being caught, she could claim victory in their impromptu 'hunt'.

No sooner had she made it a few hundred yards, however, than the heavens opened up and let forth the massive deluge that had been threatening all day. Auriana was soaked down the bone within seconds, and she was forced to slow down to avoid slipping and falling flat on her face - or worse, running headlong into a tree. It was also rather difficult to move with her sopping skirts tangled around her legs, though on the bright side she knew the rain would do much to disguise her scent and wash away her tracks.

Auriana's panted breath sounded unnaturally loud in her ears as she fled, and her heart was pounding so hard that she thought it might leap out of her chest. It was not the exertion of running that left her breathless, but rather the heady combination of the rain, the wilderness, and the knowledge that the man she loved was even now pursuing her with a single-minded determination. A fierce, desperate heat rose in her belly at the mere thought of him, and she could already feel an aching dampness between her thighs that had nothing at all to do with the rain.

It was very, very tempting to simply stop and let Varian catch her, but for the moment at least, Auriana pressed on. She was both fit and determined, and she was making good time despite the rain. Her excitement rose with each step, and her adrenaline surged every time she caught sight of something moving in the depths of the forest - something that might have been _him_.

Auriana followed the game trail for over a mile, before she finally turned back toward the west, and made her way up the side of a ridge that led to a shallow valley below. It was far slower going than running along the well-worn trail, and her once swift pace was reduced to almost a crawl as she fought to gain purchase on the slippery leaves. In truth, she more or less fell, rather than climbed, down the valley side of the ridge, and she could only hope that her earlier efforts had gained her enough time and distance as to evade Varian for a little longer.

Just as Auriana made it across the valley and up the other side, however, a sudden faint tingle along her spine alerted her to the presence of someone else nearby. She whirled, squinting through the downpour, and despite the poor visibility, she simply knew that Varian was somewhere close. She knew it in the same way she knew that the ground beneath her feet was solid, though she couldn't for the life of her have explained _how_. It was something profound and instinctual; the same kind of uncanny intuition that kept her alive during a battle, and she immediately flattened herself against the base of a nearby tree for protection.

Unfortunately, it was nearly impossible to hear anything beneath the roar of the storm, even for someone without Auriana's poor hearing, and she realised that there was only one way she could determine Varian's location for certain. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her traitorous heartbeat to something less than a dull thunder, and very carefully peered around the trunk of the oak.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the valley below - and Auriana's heart leapt into her throat as she beheld an enormous, shadowy figure standing at the very edge of the treeline. It was Varian, of course - there was no other man alive who looked quite like _that_ \- but a Varian whose physical presence had somehow been magnified a thousand fold.

Auriana felt almost like an intruder as she stared down at him; a witness to a sacred joining of man and beast that was not meant for mortal eyes, and yet she found it so thrilling that she couldn't look away. She certainly should have moved, or at the very least taken better cover behind the tree, but she remained utterly transfixed as Varian prowled clear of the treeline and surveyed the valley with the self-assured intensity of an alpha predator.

He was as soaking wet as she; his once billowing white shirt clinging to the hard planes of his arms and chest. Tendrils of his long, wet hair were slicked across his neck and back, and his massive shoulders visibly heaved as he took several deep, slow breaths. He must have run very fast to have caught up to her, and Auriana couldn't help to but to be impressed by his tracking skills. She was no hunter herself, of course, though she understood that it was no easy task for anyone to have found her so quickly, both through the storm and across unfamiliar terrain.

Then again, Varian was no ordinary man.

Somewhere to the north, there came a sharp crack as something large fled through the forest seeking shelter from the storm. Quick as a whip, Varian's head snapped towards the sound, and every last one of his muscles tensed in preparation for a fight. It was a movement she had seen him perform a hundred times in the arena; a movement as swift and easy as an inhalation of breath, and yet in that moment Auriana was strangely struck by the realisation that she had never before _truly_ appreciated why he was called the Wolf.

"Lo'Gosh..."

The name tumbled from her mouth without thinking, but it was his just as much as his sword or his scars. He was standing perhaps a hundred yards away, and yet Auriana could feel the heat of him as if he were standing right beside her. Some distant part of her mind was still telling her to run, or hide, or do quite literally anything other than stand there, but her legs refused to cooperate, and she realised that there was nothing on Azeroth that could have compelled her to look away.

Varian's muscles slid smoothly beneath the fabric of his shirt as he crouched down to run his hand across the ground, his brows drawn together as he searched for any sign of his prey. His eyes were keen and sharp, and he seemed to be able to see beyond the dampened leaves and detritus of the forest floor. Auriana began to feel lightheaded as she watched over him, so long had she been holding her breath… when in a single, heart-stopping moment, Varian turned his head to face her, and bared his teeth in a cocky, triumphant snarl.

 _He'd known she was there all along._

Auriana bolted.

The sudden realisation that Varian knew exactly where she was had done what her own mind could not, and had freed her legs from their temporary paralysis. She didn't fear him in the slightest - quite the opposite, in fact - though she was also acutely aware of the fact that she was being pursued by nothing less than a force of nature. Her skin prickled as if electrified, and her legs shook with effort as she turned and fled down the opposite side of the valley.

Auriana knew she didn't stand a chance in hell of outrunning him unless she were to use her magic, though she had no intention of cheating. Varian had found her fair and square, and she was undeniably eager to discover what her wolf intended to do upon catching his prey. Still, she was not one to simply give up, even for him, and she flew through the forest with all the speed she could muster.

Despite her best efforts, however, Auriana only made it a few hundred yards before something hit her hard and low from behind, and she found herself sliding down the hill towards a small clearing below. She gasped as the air was knocked from her lungs by the force of the blow, though she knew no fear. Varian's strong arms wrapped around her protectively as they fell, and after a brief, bone-shaking tumble, they landed together in a heap of tangled limbs upon the wet grass.

Auriana barely had time to catch her breath before she was dragged to her knees by Varian's enormous right hand looped beneath her belly, while his left forced her legs apart. His harsh breath rasped in her ears as he ground her back against his hips, and a thrill shook through her bones as she felt his manhood pressing urgently against the curve of her rear.

" _Mine_ ," he growled.

Varian was not usually so ignorant of romance and intimacy as one might have assumed from his reputation - but today was not about romance, or slowness, or tenderness. Auriana had asked for the wolf, and it seemed that Varian fully intended to deliver.

He grunted deep in his throat as he shoved Auriana's skirts up about her waist, and she let out a answering whine of encouragement as his weathered hands grazed her bare flesh. Their hunt had worked her into a higher state of arousal than she ever believed possible, and now that he was so close, Auriana found herself teetering on the edge of control.

A low whimper escaped her throat as one of Varian's urgent fingers found the soft cotton fabric of her undergarments and tore them away, leaving her skin bare beneath the thunderous sky. The rain was shockingly cool against her exposed sex, as if she had just plunged naked into an icy river, but the sensation was far from unpleasant. Varian was producing more than enough heat for the both of them, and the stark contrast between his feverish touch and the sting of the rain against her skin made Auriana feel wonderfully alive.

The pressure on her thighs released for the briefest of moments as Varian paused to unlace his pants, snarling beneath his breath the entire time. He was clearly just as impatient as she, if not more so, and for a moment Auriana wondered whether he would simply tear the offending garment off in his haste. A second later, however, she felt his restless movements still. One of his enormous hands closed possessively over her hip, and without any further warning, he claimed her with a single, desperate thrust.

Auriana cried out, for once heedless of their surroundings, and if not for the strength of Varian's hands upon her body, she would have collapsed. The force of him was enough to knock the air from her lungs for the second time in a handful of minutes, and she was suddenly very glad that she was already wet enough to take him. Varian was prodigiously large, in every sense of the word, and it seemed that he would not be made to wait a second longer to take his fill of his mate.

There was no pain, however, only an exquisite pleasure that sent Auriana reeling with every thrust. Never in her life had she imagined that she would one day find herself on her hands and knees in the middle of a forest during a raging storm; and yet here she was, panting like a wild animal in heat as Varian buried himself inside her over and over and over again. He was _fierce_ , and dangerous, and utterly untamed, and yet Auriana could not have imagined loving anyone more as she loved him in that moment.

" _Lo'Gosh_ …"

Her nails dug deep furrows in the grass as she fought to hold herself upright against Varian's furious onslaught, but the sound of his wolf's name only seemed to drive him even wilder. Loud, throaty grunts tore from his throat, interspersed with the wet slap of his flesh against her thighs as his already frantic pounding grew faster. One of his hands slid to her throat, closing around her neck with the same desperation of a drowning man clutching for a lifeline. He leaned forward, his lips brushing hungrily over the point where her neck met her shoulder… and a second later, he bit down.

 _Hard_.

Auriana let out a long, shuddering moan as Varian's teeth tore into her pale flesh, the shock of the bite somehow making his powerful thrusts all the more pleasurable. She felt mingled rivulets of blood and rainwater trickling down her neck and between her breasts, but she didn't care. The wolf - _her_ wolf - had been unleashed; the last of his walls having come crashing down to leave only the raw truth of him behind.

Auriana couldn't have said how long they remained intertwined, lost as she was in the feeling of the man she loved moving deep inside her. Days might have passed, or even weeks, but she was so giddy with desire that she no longer possessed any real sense of the passage of time. There was only Varian, and the storm; the heated scent of his sweat and lust mingling with the salty tang of the rain against her lips and the feel of the wet earth solid beneath her hands. Auriana was no druid or shaman, but it made her feel connected to both her wolf and the world around her in a way that she had never known was possible, and she never wanted it to end.

Yet even for a man of his legendary stamina, Varian was moving too fast to hold off forever, and Auriana could tell from the way he held her that he was close. He had crouched even lower over her back, and she could feel every tremor and twitch of his manhood resonating throughout her needy core.

Auriana, too, was nearly done for, and she knew that she would not last much longer than he. There was nothing that she loved more than to bring Varian to release, and her legs began to quiver in eager anticipation as his breath grew shorter and shallower still. He held Auriana in a titan's grip that she couldn't have hoped to escape, even if she had wanted to, and he slammed into her body with a wild and uninhibited force that left her breathless and aching with desire.

The pressure building in her belly was unreal, and just when Auriana thought she couldn't possibly last a second longer, she felt the hand around her throat clamp down even harder. Varian's entire body abruptly stiffened, and with one final, powerful thrust, he threw his head back and roared in savage triumph as he broke himself deep within her body.

Auriana tightened around his throbbing length in response, the feeling of being so thoroughly _filled_ by his seed simply too much to resist. Her blood felt was on fire, and in one thrilling, breathless moment, what felt like years of pent-up desire, and need, and emotion crashed over her like a wave. A long, drawn out shudder rippled down her spine as her own climax took her, and she cried out for Lo'Gosh one last time.

The sound of their collective ecstasy was loud enough to drown out the wind and rain - and it seemed that they had not gone unheard. Somewhere deep in the forest there came a low, otherworldly whine that rapidly built into a primal, victorious howl. For a moment, Auriana thought she must have been imagining things; but then came a second howl, and a third, and soon it seemed as if all of Teldrassil was alive with the sound of _wolves_ , as what had to have been an entire pack called out for their alpha. It was almost like a song; a wild and joyful chorus of freedom and triumph, and it echoed longingly through the trees long after both Varian and his mate had finally stilled.

He remained crouched over her for a long time, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control of his body. Eventually, however, the hand around Auriana's neck relaxed, and the weight against her back lifted as Varian finally regained his footing. He pulled her with him as he stood, and his touch grew suddenly gentle where it had been rough and desperate only minutes ago.

Auriana's legs were trembling so badly from effort and excitement that she almost toppled over; if not for the strong hands about her waist that held her steady. Varian met her gaze only briefly, however, before he silently lifted her into his arms with ease, and turned towards the west.

As it turned out, they had run further than Auriana had thought, and were only about quarter mile away from the cabin. Varian made the distance in no time at all, though Auriana was shivering by the time they made it in doors, the chill of the rain having finally cooled some of the fire in her veins. Her heartbeat had also slowed considerably, though her limbs still shook with energy every time Varian inadvertently brushed her bare skin.

He placed her wordlessly on her feet before the bed, and began to peel away her soaking blouse with trembling fingers. He was still breathing heavily, the clinging fabric of his shirt straining with each expansion of his chest, and Auriana could practically _feel_ the adrenaline shivering in his bones. Wet tendrils of his hair tumbled down across his face; the fresh droplets catching the firefight and turning his darkened skin to burnished gold. It made him look younger, somehow, but no less intense, and certainly no less dangerous. Shadows of the wolf still stirred all around him, even here, and Auriana's heart ached with love just to look upon him.

Varian's expression, on the other hand, was as stoic and unreadable as if he had been carved from stone. The last lingering echoes of his desire were slowly fading from his eyes, and the longer they stood in silence, the more Auriana began to fear that he was somehow displeased by what had transpired between them out in the woods. She had been certain that he had enjoyed himself in the heat of the moment, but now… she wasn't quite so sure.

Before she could ask, however, Varian's hazy gaze fell upon the fresh blood staining the neckline of her shirt, and he frowned. He stepped back, looking terribly ashamed, and for the first time since he had told her to run, he spoke.

"Auri… I… I didn't mean to…"

His voice was unusually soft and hoarse, and he blinked as if seeing her for the first time.

"If you're going to apologise, don't," she said quickly, placing a firm hand upon his chest.

As far as Auriana was concerned, Varian had given her exactly what she'd asked for. She loved it when he let himself go; loved knowing that he was only ever truly so unguarded with her. There was also something thrilling and viscerally primal about the way he had marked her as _his_ , and she didn't regret his actions for a second.

"Your shoulder…"

Her skin prickled slightly as Varian brushed his fingers along the line of the bite, but it was far from the worst pain Auriana had ever experienced. She knew she would bruise, too, where he had grabbed for her hips and throat like his life depended on it, though she wouldn't have had it any other way. Of course, she doubted that saying as much would make Varian feel better. Instead, she lifted his hand from her shoulder to her cheek, and leaned lovingly into the warmth of his palm.

"A scar I'll be proud to bear," she assured him. "Really."

For a moment, Auriana wasn't quite sure if Varian would believe her. His brow remained heavily furrowed, and they stared at one another in silence for a long time before something in his expression finally softened, and he leaned down to press his forehead against hers.

"Auriana…"

Whatever Varian had been about to say was lost, however, as their quiet moment was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Startled, Auriana snatched for her sopping blouse, and quickly yanked it back on over her head. She was fairly certain they weren't in danger, as enemies generally tended not to knock, but nor did she want to face their visitor in a state of half-undress.

Varian, however, clearly felt differently. Gone was the raw, aching man who had touched her so softly a moment ago, and in his place remained only the fearsome warrior. He moved swiftly to position himself between Auriana and the door, using the bulk of his body to shield her from whatever might have been waiting on the other side. It was something he had started doing more and more since the spate of attempts on her life last year, though Auriana doubted he was conscious of the behaviour. It was instinct, pure and simple, and while she personally found it unnecessary, she also understood why he felt the need.

"Come!" he barked.

Auriana distinctly saw Varian's muscles tense for a fight, only to loosen a mere second later as a soaking wet Lana Ridley stepped tentatively across the threshold into the cabin. His expression remained thunderous, displeased as he undoubtedly was, though at it seemed that he would not be murdering anyone outright.

At least, not yet.

Ridley's gaze swept over their torn and muddy clothing, the bloodied mark on Auriana's shoulder, and Varian's wild, disheveled hair, but she would never have dared to make a comment. Instead, she offered them both a crisp salute; clearly doing her best to ignore the puddle of water pooling on the floor around her feet as she began to speak.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt, Your Majesties, but I've been sent to recall you to Stormwind…"

"You're about to be," Varian growled, his voice quiet and dangerous. "We were to have two weeks. Two weeks, Ridley!"

There was a faint note of desperation beneath the anger in his voice, and Auriana wondered if their little honeymoon had meant more to him than she had perhaps fully understood.

"I understand, sire," Ridley said patiently, her brow ceasing in genuine sympathy, "But there's been a... development… that requires your attention."

"Is Anduin alright? Did something happen?" Auriana asked, poking her head around the side of Varian's shoulder.

"The Prince is perfectly well, I assure you…"

"Then what is so important that we had to be interrupted?" Varian grumbled. "I swear, Ridley, if Stormwind isn't _actually on fire_ as we speak, I could not possibly be more uninterested."

"It's not that, Majesty," the guardswoman said quickly, "But Prince Anduin was most insistent. We have received a missive from the Horde. It's the Warchief Vol'jin. He wants to talk."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Sorry for the delay on this one! I kind of derped and got stuck at a point where I realised I was going to have a twenty thousand word long chapter on my hands, and I figured that might be a little much. It seemed sensible to split it, until I then realised the bits I'd written were the middle and ending… which now form Chapter 12, not Chapter 11. RIP me.**

 **Anyway! As always, thank you all** _ **so**_ **much for your support and commentary; I promise you that each and every comment gets read at least a dozen times, and there's usually a lot of squealing and smiling and ugly crying involved. Please also feel free to hit me up on Tumblr ( wolfandwild) or send me a PM if you'd like to chat!**

 **Varian**

The next twenty minutes passed in silence as Varian and Auriana prepared to make the journey home. There was no question of returning to Stormwind, not given the potential gravity of the situation, but that didn't mean Varian had to be happy about it, either. Ridley had stepped outside to give them some privacy, but he could feel her presence as keenly as if she were standing in the centre of the room tapping her foot at him. It also didn't help that his brain was still foggy with lust and adrenaline from his 'hunt', and he was finding it rather difficult to gather his thoughts. Not even an hour ago, he had been wild and free; lost in the heady, primal thrill of his wolfish side, and yet in a mere second he had been forced to regain control and become High King Varian once more.

Of course, such a thing was more easily said than done. Varian's nerves were still afire, despite his best efforts to remain calm, and every sight and scent and sound that Auriana made threatened to send him back over the edge. She was still soaking wet, her skirts clinging to her thighs in a way that highlighted every luscious curve, and beneath the smell of rain and sweat and blood, he could still smell her lust; as clear and stark as if he had his face buried in crux of her thighs.

Varian watched Auriana closely as she folded her clothes and carefully placed them in her bag, both out of concern, and because he found her so beautiful that he could scarcely look away. He could not tell from her expression whether she was still as affected by their tryst in the woods as he, nor how she felt about the sudden change of plans. She had reacted Ridley's startling declaration with nothing more than a quick upward quirk of her eyebrows, before immediately turning away to see to her things.

Even when doing something so simple as packing, Auriana was radiant, and Varian was so distracted by her beauty that it wasn't until she had finished and turned to face him with a curious expression that he realised hadn't moved. He coughed in a poor attempt to cover his distraction, before hastily shoving his own things into a bag with little care for efficient use of space or any overarching principle of organisation. By the time he'd finished cramming everything in, it looked less like an actual _bag_ and more like a loosely bound pile of pile of cloth, leather, and plate. It was functional, at least, though he did not miss the sidelong glance Auriana shot his way as he awkwardly lifted the bundle onto his back.

Varian then called Ridley back inside to assist with the larger pieces of his armour, as well as his wedding present, while Auriana dutifully opened a portal back to their rooms in Stormwind. Ridley went through first, and as she disappeared Varian made a mental note to send a message through to Darnassus to explain their abrupt departure. The elves had been Varian's favourite kind of hosts, namely _absent_ ones, and he did not wish to repay their kindness and generosity with rudeness.

Just as Auriana went to follow Ridley across the threshold of the portal, however, Varian was struck by another important thought, and he decided to take advantage of what might have been their last private moment for a while.

"Auri… wait…"

He caught her by the sleeve, and gently pulled her back. He had no idea what kind of political storm they were about to step into, but he wanted to make sure Auriana was not vexed with him before they did. It was barely even a week into their marriage, and yet they had already found their personal lives disrupted by the weight of his crown. Varian would never dream of shirking his duties as High King, and nor would Auriana ever ask him to; but he knew that the timing left a lot to be desired, and he would not have blamed her if she were upset.

"Before we go to back to Stormwind and everything becomes… complicated… you should know, I _am_ sorry," he said seriously.

Auriana cocked her head to the side, and touched a hand to the place on her shoulder where Varian had so violently marked her as his. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound still appeared red and raw beneath the see-through fabric of her blouse.

"Varian… I told you… there's no need to apologise…"

"Not… _that_ ," he clarified quickly, though admittedly he felt rather guilty about biting her, too. "I promised you time… a proper honeymoon…"

Varian shrugged his shoulders helplessly, finding it difficult to articulate precisely what it was he was sorry _for_.

"You're the High King. You're needed," Auriana said simply. "I understand."

"I know you do," he said, "But I also know that becoming a Queen would not have been your first choice, if there had been another option. I know that you hate this sort of thing."

Auriana frowned at his choice of words, and pulled away from him slightly so that she might better look him in the eye.

"Hate it?" she repeated. "Not at all."

She bit her lip, and a moment of silence passed between them as she searched for the right words.

"Varian… I think you've misunderstood. I know I was hesitant about becoming Queen, but it's not because I _dislike_ leadership," she said gently, staring up at him from beneath dark lashes. "Or politics, for that matter."

"No?"

"You know how much my command in Draenor meant to me," she pointed out. "I live and bleed for the Alliance, and as Queen of Stormwind I have the power to protect lives in a way that I never could as a mere commander. My reticence comes from fear, not because I hate the idea of being a queen. I'm... afraid of letting our people down. I'm afraid of letting _you_ down."

She ran a hand through the damp tangles of her hair, and gave him a rueful smile.

"Afraid is not quite the right word. I'm...terrified, actually."

"You're never afraid," Varian countered fiercely. "You're the bravest person I've ever met."

"I'm afraid of plenty of things. Though I have to admit, the thought of failing you troubles me more than almost anything else," Auriana murmured, looking away from him to stare down at her hands.

The movement was small, but it still clearly conveyed the deep vulnerability and contradiction hidden in the depths of Auriana's heart. It was strange, Varian thought, that a woman with both the courage and the power to stand toe to toe with gods feared disappointing _him_. It filled him with a profound sense of humility, and was not something he took at all lightly.

"I think I owe you another apology," he murmured. "I underestimated you."

Somewhat surprisingly, his comment made Auriana's quirk upward in a small smile. She shook her head, and gestured to her diminutive stature.

"You wouldn't be the first," she snorted.

"No, but that doesn't mean I'm not sorry," Varian said. "And for what it's worth, I don't think you could ever so much as disappoint me, much less fail me."

Her smile widened at his words, and she was so soft and beautiful as to make Varian's breath catch in his chest and his heart ache with regret. He knew they had to leave, he knew that he could not neglect his duties as king… but there had scarcely been a time when he had wanted to more.

"One more thing..." he said quietly, tightening his grip on the sleeve of Auriana's shirt.

"We really ought to get back…" Auriana said, gesturing towards the portal. "Anduin and Ridley will be waiting…"

"I know. But now that I've got my wits about me again… I need you to understand…"

Varian cleared his throat.

"About what happened between us in the woods, what you did for me today… I…"

He had been utterly floored by Auriana's trust in him and her understanding of who he was and what he needed, but it wasn't something he had truly appreciated in the moment. Out in the forest, he had become a creature entirely consumed by instinct and lust, but now that the fire in his veins had begun to cool, he could understand what it was about the encounter that had been so special. Auriana made him feel _free_ , and for a man who had spent his entire life bound by his crown, and his pain, and his rage, it was a priceless gift indeed.

Expressing the complexity of his feelings was far easier said than done, however, and he stood, frowning in discomposed silence for a few moments, before Auriana took matters into her own hands. She rose up onto her tiptoes, and pulled Varian down for a tender kiss before he could say another word.

"Varian. _I know_. It doesn't need saying. It never has."

She slipped her hand into his, and pulled him gently towards the shimmering portal.

"Now come on. Let's go home."

* * *

The first thing Varian saw upon rematerialising in his study was Ridley shaking her head like a wet dog as she tried to clear the water from her ears. The second thing he saw was his son, standing by the fire with his brows drawn in a pensive expression. Anduin had recently hit another growth spurt, and had gained a bit more height and breadth in the shoulders. It made him look more mature, more adult, but in that moment he looked more like a nervous boy than a prince on the cusp of manhood.

"Father!"

The look of sheer relief on Anduin's face as he turned did much to ease Varian's irritation, though he still rather wished that the Warchief's request had come with better timing. He doubted he'd ever get much of an opportunity to spend so much uninterrupted time alone with Auriana ever again, but such was the burden of being King. Varian nodded in acknowledgment of his son's greeting, before divesting himself of his baggage and brushing his wet hair back from his face.

"Hello, Anduin."

"I'm so sorry, Father, I know you didn't want to be interrupted…" Anduin rambled, speaking so quickly that even Varian found it hard to keep up. "And you, Auri… I _know_ it was your honeymoon... but then the letter came, and I wasn't sure what to do… and it's so _important_ , I mean, when was the last time the Horde reached out to…"

He paused for breath, and seemed to properly notice Varian and Auriana for the first time.

"Wait, why are you two soaking wet? And _what_ is that on your face, Father?"

He pointed to Varian's considerable chin, and with a start Varian realised it must have been a week since he had last shaved. He had been so distracted by Auriana that it hadn't even occurred to him, and he supposed by now he must have been looking rather scruffy.

"It's a beard, Anduin - or the start of one, at least," he growled. "Believe it or not, some of us are actually capable of growing facial hair."

Anduin dismissed the sarcastic comment with a roll of his eyes, though his hand subconsciously brushed across the smooth skin of his lower jaw.

"Were you two in a fight or something? There's mud all over the side of your neck," he added. "Honestly, Father, how is it that you manage to find trouble even in the _middle of nowhere_ on your honeymoon?"

He shook his head in bemusement, only to frown a second later as his bright-eyed gaze found the blood along the line of Auriana's collar.

"Auri, you're bleeding!" he exclaimed. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Ever the healer, Anduin immediately stepped forward to offer aid, but Varian stopped him with a firm hand on the chest and a shake of his head.

"Anduin. No."

It wasn't difficult to identify the imprint of human teeth in flesh from up close, and he knew that Auriana would be mortified if Anduin suspected anything of what had transpired between them out in the forest.

"But…"

"I'm fine, Anduin. Just a small nick," Auriana said, the top of her ears going red. "What's all this about a message from the Warchief?"

She, too, placed her bags on the ground, and dismissed Ridley with a small smile and a wave of her hand. Anduin did not appear at all convinced by her assurances, however, though he was also smart enough to know that there was no point in pushing the issue. Instead, he strode over to Varian's desk, and retrieved an otherwise unremarkable scroll of parchment.

"It was hidden in a diplomatic package from Pandaria. I didn't realise what it was until I'd already opened it, but it's addressed to you…"

He held the scroll out to Varian, who thumbed open the broken seal and began to read. The message was actually composed of two different pieces of parchment; one a long and formal missive bearing the official seal of the Horde Warchief, and a second shorter note in different handwriting that was addressed to Auriana.

Varian read over the formal message first, and was somewhat surprised to learn that Vol'jin really _did_ wish to arrange a meeting. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Anduin, of course, but more that Vol'jin's overture was so unexpected that he had needed to see the proof of it for himself. The current Warchief had certainly proven to be more cooperative than many of his allies, but he was still a Warchief of the _Horde_. The tentative truce that had persisted on Azeroth ever since the end of the war on Draenor was one thing, but Vol'jin's letter seemed to suggest that he wanted something _more_ , and Varian couldn't help but to be skeptical.

"I didn't show Genn," Anduin said nervously, wringing his hands. "I know he was supposed to be my advisor, but I didn't know how he'd react; you know how he can be about the Horde…"

"Can you blame him?"

Varian's own position on the Horde had softened over the years, though he doubted he would have been so charitable had Garrosh Hellscream succeeded in his attempt to kill Anduin with the Divine Bell, as Sylvanas had succeeded in killing Liam Greymane. He and Genn may not have always seen eye to eye on every issue, but Varian had always held a great deal of sympathy for the older King's sorrow. If he were to lose Anduin, or now Auriana...

"I know that he still carries much pain, and rightly so," Anduin said carefully, ever the diplomat, "But if there is a chance we can and save many more sons and daughters by securing a lasting piece, we must put our personal feelings aside."

Privately, Varian felt there some things that defied forgiveness, but that was a philosophical argument for another day. His son was uncertain; clearly worried that he had made some sort of critical error, and Varian had no wish to undermine his confidence as he took his first steps towards real kingship.

"You did well," he said, clapping Anduin firmly on the back. "Who else is aware of the Warchief's message?"

"Just us three. As I said, it was hidden among some other documents," Anduin clarified. "Oh - and Ridley, too, obviously. I thought she could be trusted."

Varian nodded, then turned to Auriana and handed her the missive from Vol'jin, as well as the second sealed message that bore her name.

"Believe it or not, Vol'jin wants to meet us privately," he explained. "He wishes to talk off the record about the future of the Alliance and the Horde. Whatever that means."

"Us?" she repeated. "As in you and I?"

"Apparently. There's a letter there addressed to you, too."

A flicker of recognition crossed Auriana's face as she read the messy scrawl marking her own name, but she did not immediately flip the seal. Instead, she tucked her wet hair back behind her ears with a thoughtful frown, and glanced towards the study door.

"I can't concentrate when I'm dripping all over the floor. Let me get out of these wet clothes, and we'll discuss this properly, hmm?"

She gave Anduin a small smile as she stepped past him, taking both letters with her as she slipped out of the study and off towards the bedroom. Both Wrynn men watched her go, and it wasn't until she was well out of earshot that Anduin spoke once more.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know you two needed time alone, but…"

"Anduin. You did the right thing by recalling me," Varian said flatly, holding up a hand before his son could speak further. "I'm not going to say it again."

Anduin nodded, though his expression remained doubtful.

"I'll have to find a way to make things up to you," he suggested. "I'm sure I could see to the kingdom for another few days - I think - if you wanted to try again sometime? I know it's hard to find the time, but I would like to help."

"The offer is appreciated, Anduin, but unnecessary," Varian said softly. "Really."

It was something of a lie, though he didn't see any point in making Anduin feel worse than he already did. His son had ever worn his heart on his sleeve, and guilt was clearly written into every small frown and crease of his forehead.

"What were you _doing_ out there, anyway?" Anduin asked, curious. "I thought you were staying in a cabin in Teldrassil, not... roaming about the forest. You look like you've been rolling around in the mud, and Auri looks like she was wrestling a wild animal with her bare… _oh_."

His face flushed an unbecoming shade of bright red as the realisation hit him, and he suddenly seemed rather fascinated by the floor. Varian was not in a particular habit of discussing the finer points of his relationship with _anyone,_ much less his teenaged son, and he felt his own ears burn hot. He was not embarrassed by his own desires, and he did not want to give Anduin the impression that physical intimacy was something shameful; but nor did he want to get drawn into a discussion of the details.

 _Ever_.

Fortunately, Anduin seemed to agree with his father's sentiment. He turned away, his cheeks flaming, when his gaze fell upon the painting resting up against the leg of Varian's desk.

"I… uh… oh! What's this?" he asked, gently pulling away the cloth cover protecting the artwork.

It was a clear attempt to change the topic to something less awkward, though his interest soon became genuine as he realised what the painting actually depicted.

"This… hold on, is that _you_? And that must be Grandfather, and Grandmother…"

Anduin's mouth fell open, and he stared up at Varian with wide eyes. There were relatively few relics of the House of Wrynn left from before the fall of Stormwind, most of them have been burned by the orcs or stolen by looters. Varian had ordered a few things rebuilt, based on his own memories, but there were hardly any originals left, and none that depicted Anduin's grandparents - until now.

"Auriana's wedding gift to me," he explained. "She - well, let's just say she went to a great deal of trouble to acquire it."

"It isn't a replica? She… _how_?"

Anduin reached out to run his fingers reverently across the textured oil paint, staring down at the face of a man he would never know. He may have borne Llane's name, but Varian would always regret that his son knew nothing of his grandfather's smile, or his wit or compassion.

"Father… this is… she…"

"Oh, believe me, Anduin, I am _well_ aware of the fact that I don't deserve her," Varian snorted.

He shook some more water from his hair, and made his way over to the liquor cabinet at the back of the room. He wasn't especially comfortable in his own soaked clothes, but he had such a naturally high body temperature that they were drying relatively quickly. The cheerful fire burning at the back of the room also helped a great deal, though it admittedly did very little for the squelch in Varian's boots.

"Where do you think we ought to hang it?" he asked, as he poured himself a stiff glass of whiskey.

"Hmm," Anduin murmured, "Somewhere private, I think. It's personal, not a landscape to be forgotten in a hallway somewhere."

He placed the painting on Varian's desk with an air of great reverence, and gazed around the room with a thoughtful expression.

"Maybe not your bedroom. I can't imagine you'd want your father staring at you while you… uh… _sleep_."

"Is that a hint?" Varian teased. "I could have something commissioned, you know; rig it up on your ceiling so that you can always have me watching over you."

Anduin blanched, and Varian could practically _see_ him imagining what it would be like to have a giant portrait of Varian himself looming over his bed.

" _Or_ … you could just hang _your_ painting above the fireplace there, instead…" he suggested.

Varian barked out a laugh at the look of sheer horror on his son's face, earning him a glare of pure indignation. Despite his best efforts, however, Anduin could not resist his father's mirth forever. His mouth twitched, and soon he, too, was laughing. Such levity had often been rare occurrence in their relationship, though that had changed significantly over the past few years. The laughter also did a great deal to ease some of the tension still lingering in the room between them, and for a while Varian allowed himself to enjoy the moment of simple kinship with his son.

"How have you been, anyway?" he asked finally, after the last of Anduin's bemused chuckles had subsided.

"Fine, mostly. Getting that letter was a bit of a shock, but otherwise it's been business as usual around here," Anduin replied, his expression growing sober once more. "I must admit, though, I rather underestimated the amount of work you do for the kingdom."

"Oh?"

Varian leaned back against the heavy oak of the liquor cabinet, swirling the amber whiskey around his glass as he studied his son. Anduin had moved to take a seat on the lounge, and was now fiddling idly with the corner of a plush pillow as he gathered his thoughts. His golden brows were drawn together in a very small frown; not an expression of consternation, but rather one of deep thoughtfulness. It was uncannily similar to an expression that Tiffin had often worn, and Varian hid a fond smile behind the rim of his glass as he took a long draw of his drink.

"I mean, I know you work hard, but I didn't realise it was _that_ hard. I may have been 'king' when you were missing, but I was still a child. Bolvar did most of the work," Anduin continued. "And you're efficient, too. It takes me a whole day to do work I've seen you do in a few hours."

"I've had twenty years of practice, give or take," Varian pointed out. "You haven't."

"I thought I had a better handle on things, but it was a tad overwhelming, even with Genn's help," Anduin admitted. "I don't want to let our people down. I don't want to let _you_ down."

"You care. Deeply. That's more than a lot of rulers can say," Varian countered. "The rest is practice. You'll get there, it might just take some time."

"It never feels like _enough_ ," Anduin sighed.

"Welcome to kingship."

Varian understood his son's frustration all too well. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he _tried_ , he could never hope to help or protect everyone. There would always be people who suffered; people who had less than they deserved. People who _died_. Dwelling on this harsh was enough to break the heart of even the strongest man, and Varian had long ago learned to push such thoughts to the back of his mind lest he find himself consumed.

Anduin, however, was still young, and empathetic almost to a fault. Varian did not wish for him to become cold, or unfeeling, but at the same time he knew that the realities of kingship demanded a degree of hardness that Anduin would have to learn if he were to be an effective leader.

"You look tired," he observed. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Not really," Anduin confessed. "But I'm fine."

Varian would have _almost_ believed him, if not for the fact that at that precise moment, Anduin's body chose to betray him. Despite his best efforts to stifle it, a loud, drawn out yawn escaped his lips, and he was forced to sheepishly cover his mouth with his hands.

"Go get some rest," Varian told him.

"But…"

"No buts. Auriana and I can handle things from here," Varian ordered. "And for future reference, a king who is awake has a substantial advantage over one who is asleep."

"Funny," Anduin said, rolling his eyes.

Despite his outward reticence, however, Varian could tell he was actually rather relieved to have been dismissed. There were dark circles under his eyes that Varian had not immediately noticed, and he did not doubt that the boy had been up till the wee hours of the morning each day, buried in his work.

"You know, you haven't ordered me to bed since I was a child," Anduin added.

"You didn't listen to me then, either."

Anduin smiled at that; his blue eyes warm with affection as he stared up at his father. The expression made him look very young, and Varian was starkly reminded that for all his intelligence and wisdom, Anduin was not yet a man with decades of life experience, but in many ways still an inquisitive youth trying to find his place in the world.

In this case, Anduin was also an especially _tired_ young man, and Varian hoped that for once he would heed his father's advice. Varian was quite prepared to argue the point, and even to carry Anduin off to bed himself, if that's what it took, but for once it seemed that Anduin was content to accept Varian's orders without resistance. He offered his father a small nod and another weary smile, before he turned and slowly and silently made his way to the study door.

A few minutes after Anduin had departed, Auriana returned, having traded her soaking wet skirts for a warm blue dress. Varian noted that the outfit she had chosen was particularly high necked, so as to hide the mark on her shoulder, though of course with Anduin gone there was little need. She had also pinned her damp tresses into a messy pile on top of her head, and altogether she looked far more relaxed and comfortable than she had when they had first arrived.

"Where's Anduin?" she asked.

"I sent him back to his rooms. I suspect he's been running himself a bit ragged."

Varian held out a glass of wine toward her, which she accepted with a grateful smile.

"He wants so badly to impress you," Auriana observed, running a pale finger along the rim of her glass. "I can relate to that."

"I know," Varian said quietly. "He puts too much on himself."

"A Wrynn king taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, whoever would have thought," Auriana said, smiling wryly back at Varian from over the rim of her wine glass.

"You're a Wrynn now, too, don't forget," he reminded her.

"A Wrynn _queen_ , not a Wrynn king. We're _much_ smarter," she teased.

"Well, you _did_ marry _me_ , that hardly speaks to any great intelligence on your behalf..." Varian said slyly.

Auriana burst out laughing, and flopped down onto the chaise where Anduin had been sitting only a few minutes earlier. She beckoned for Varian to join her, and he certainly did not need to be asked twice. He moved immediately to take a seat at her side, picking up her feet so that they were resting comfortably in his lap, and tickled the bare skin of her ankles until she shivered. Their honeymoon may have been cut short, but that did not mean that Varian could not take the time to enjoy some small moments of peace with his new wife.

Unfortunately, duty could not wait forever, and all too soon Varian's attention was drawn back to the two scrolls Auriana had left perched on the edge of the lounge.

"So," he said finally. "What did you make of Vol'jin's invitation?"

"It's… interesting, to say the least. I can't believe he wants to meet us in _Booty Bay_ , of all places."

Auriana pinched her lower lip between her thumb and her index finger, and scowled in deep thought.

"Why _there?_ " she mused. "I've been to Booty Bay a few times now, and I'd hardly recommend it as a destination for… anything, really."

"Neutral territory," Varian guessed. "Not an _ideal_ place for a meeting of this significance, but somewhere no one would bat an eye at a human and a troll conversing. Easy for access from Ratchet, too."

"Somewhere no-one would ever be looking for a Warchief, or a High King, either, I suppose," Auriana agreed, nodding. "So whatever Vol'jin wants, he's very invested in keeping the discussion secret - from both the Alliance _and_ the Horde."

"I agree. It could be a trap," Varian observed.

"I think that's where the second letter comes into it," Auriana said, tapping the parchments with a slender finger. "It's from Zala'din, and it's most definitely his handwriting. He assures me the Warchief's intentions are genuine, and he simply wants an opportunity to talk."

"Do you trust him?" Varian asked. "Zala'din, I mean."

Auriana considered the question, fiddling idly with a stray lock of hair as she did. Her friendship with Zala'din was an odd one, given the turbulent history between trolls and humans. It had been borne out of a battlefield necessity, though it had later matured into something far more genuine. In his pettier moments, Varian had found himself wishing that they had not grown quite so close. Not because he suspected any sort of romantic relationship between the two, of course, but rather because he was undeniably jealous of the time Auriana and Zala'din had spent side by side in Draenor. Varian loved fighting alongside his wife more than almost anything, and it rankled him that Zala'din had been given the opportunity to do so far more often than Varian himself.

"I trust him," Auriana concluded, "But whether that means I want to go traipsing off to a pirate backwater tomorrow night is an entirely different question."

"Tomorrow?"

Varian reached for the parchment, and quickly scanned over Vol'jin's scraggly handwriting for the second time. Admittedly, he hadn't really paid much attention to the specifics on his first reading, surprised as he had been to have received the message at all.

"The message said that if we agree to meet, they will be waiting for us on the full moon," Auriana clarified. "That's tomorrow night."

"I must have lost track of time when we were in Darnassus," Varian said ruefully. "That doesn't leave us much time to prepare."

"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "Though I will confess... I'm curious. Anduin was right - this is an unprecedented move for the Horde."

Auriana leaned back against the arm of the chaise, stretching out her toes as she gave Varian a serious look. She as much reason as he did to hate the Horde, having lost her entire remaining family in the attack on Theramore, but she was also ultimately a pragmatist at heart. She had worked closely with Zala'din and his troops in Draenor, regardless of her own personal feelings on the matter, because that was what it had taken to triumph over the Iron Horde. Auriana would always do what she had to do to _win_ , and to protect the people she loved - and in this case, Varian realised that the best way to protect the people under _his_ care might have been to accept Vol'jin's offer. After all, the troll only wanted to talk.

He sighed.

"I'm curious, too. And I think speaking to Vol'jin one on one - or two on one, I suppose - is likely to be more productive than any formal diplomatic meeting I could arrange. On balance, I'm inclined to think we ought to go," he admitted.

"I agree," Auriana said, nodding, "Provided we take certain precautions."

"No arguments from me. What do you suggest?"

"We go together, obviously. Armed. It's Booty Bay, no one is going to complain about a few extra swords. And I can disguise us with my magic," she concluded.

"Oh?"

A strange expression crossed Auriana's face, and she suddenly seemed unwilling to look Varian in the eye.

"I can glamour us, yes," she said slowly. "I change our hair, hide your scars, that sort of thing."

"You can glamour us? Funny, last year I seem to recall that you went to Kalimdor with Genn because disguising _me_ would have been too difficult."

Varian deliberately kept his voice low and steady, but judging from Auriana's sudden caginess, he suspected he would not like her answer. It wouldn't be the first time she had been less than honest with him, though in this case he didn't quite understand what had motivated her deceit.

"That… that may have not been… _entirely_ true..."

"You lied to me," he accused her.

Auriana lifted her gaze to his, and she gave him a short nod.

"I did," she admitted.

" _Why_?"

"Because you were in one of those _moods_ where I feared you would march up to the gates of Orgrimmar and demand to fight every last member of the Horde one on one!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Afraid I'd lose?" Varian scowled.

"No. I was afraid you'd win."

Auriana withdrew her feet from his lap, and sat up straight in her seat, her hands folded neatly across her thighs. The casual affection in her posture vanished, and her expression caught somewhere the between that of a naughty child awaiting a scolding, and her fiercest, most defiant self.

"You weren't yourself," she muttered. "You were exhausted… reckless… _angry_."

"I don't like being _handled_ , Auriana," Varian said warningly, biting back the hot flash of anger that burned through his chest. "Nor lied to."

Try as he might, he found it difficult _not_ to rankle at her implication that he had been entirely incapable of controlling himself. He knew he was a dangerous man, but nor was he some sort of ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Coming from _her_ , of all people, also made it somehow worse, as did the fact that she had kept her decision from him for an entire year.

"Please… you have to understand..." she murmured, "It wasn't my intention to 'handle' you. I'm sorry… but at the time I believed it was in everyone's best interests to keep you out of Ratchet."

She looked up him with wide, pleading eyes, and tentatively reached for his hand.

"You were a wreck, Varian, and understandably so. They came after your _son_. I… I did what I did to protect _you_ , more than anyone else…"

Both Auriana's words and hands were cool and soft, but her touch did not quell his displeasure as easily as it usually did. And yet…

Varian closed his eyes, and took a deep breath as he forced himself to consider her point of view. He was no stranger to his fury, but admittedly there had been few moments in his life that had enraged him more than witnessing the two explosions intended to kill both his son and the woman he loved. He had been very careful to avoid showing his anger openly to either Anduin or Auriana, but in private he _had_ been another beast entirely. At one point, he had nearly broken his hand in an ill-advised attempt to drive his fist through the stone wall of the Keep, though it had done very little to release his pent-up rage.

 _She was right_ _to leave you behind_ , a small voice inside him whispered, and he sighed.

"You're my wife, now, Auriana. You _can't_ lie to me," he growled, though he nevertheless took her offered hand, and linked his fingers with hers.

"I know," she said quickly. "I promise, it won't happen again."

"You should never fear telling me the truth," he added, more gently. "I rely on you to be honest with me, to speak your mind. I can't promise I'll like hearing it, but I will always listen."

"So long as you'll do the same for me."

Auriana squeezed his hand in reply, and some of the tension in her shoulders began to ease as Varian rubbed his thumb over the back of her knuckles. They sat in silence for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts, but the quick frisson of anger and hurt that had kindled between them ultimately proved short lived. Oddly enough, their brief argument had served to remind Varian just how much he had missed having a wife, and for all that it may have vexed him to learn of her dishonesty, he would take a lie from Auriana any day over not having her at all.

"Are you hungry?" he said finally.

It was his indirect way of asking if things were alright between them, and he only hoped that Auriana would understand. Fortunately, as it turned out, she'd never really need him to say things out loud.

"Starving," she said, and she smiled.

* * *

Varian spent most of the next day catching up on the goings on of the kingdom while he had been away. Anduin had done well, despite his concerns, though there _was_ less work complete than Varian would have done himself in the same time period. Much of it could be explained by Anduin's relative inexperience, though Varian also suspected it might have something to do with the boy's thoughtfulness. He liked to think things through, to consider things from all possible angles - which while not in itself a _bad_ thing, could also make him indecisive.

Still, the work Anduin _had_ done was both thorough and of a very high standard, and Varian was immensely proud. He had no plans to cede the rulership of Stormwind to his son anytime soon, but it heartened him to know that when the time came, his beloved kingdom would be left in capable hands. He also reminded himself to tell Anduin as much the next time they spoke, but for now he simply threw himself into his work.

It was just after sundown when Varian finally left his study, stretching out his neck and shoulders as he made his way back to his inner chambers to change. The full moon was already on the rise, and Varian had yet to don his disguise for the trip to Booty Bay. He and Auriana had each borrowed a set of roughshod clothes from Mathias Shaw at SI:7, so as not to look out of place amongst the general rabble that made up the population of the ramshackle pirate city. Shaw had been _extremely_ reluctant to let his King and Queen travel to a pirate haven without an entire regiment at their backs, but after a short argument, Varian had prevailed. Vol'jin's message had been very specific, and he did not wish to compromise theil negotiations before they even began. In a way, he also almost _preferred_ the idea of meeting the Warchief one on one, where they could speak more openly and honestly, outside the normal strictures of the uneasy diplomacy that existed between the Alliance and the Horde.

Of course, Varian didn't doubt that Shaw would probably send agents to shadow them anyway. Booty Bay was a dangerous place at the best of times, and Shaw was far too good at his job to let Varian and Auriana go entirely unobserved. Stormwind's spymaster most likely already had a half dozen agents in the city, collecting rumours and gossip from travelers from all over the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor, and it would be a small thing for Shaw to order them to keep an eye out for any trouble. Even if that did mean _technically_ disobeying an order from his King...

As Varian entered his inner chambers, he found Auriana standing over their bed, frowning slightly as she contemplated an array of small knives arrayed on the mattress. She had already changed into her disguise, including a pair of pants so singularly tight that Varian wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to get them on. She already had a short falchion strapped to her hip, though it appeared she was having more difficulty choosing a knife.

Varian coughed to announce his presence, the sound loud enough to pull Auriana's attention from her weapons-based musings where his entering the room alone had not. The damage to her left ear she had suffered in Blackrock Foundry still made it difficult for her to hear soft sounds, and more than once he'd unintentionally startled her by quietly entering the room when her back was turned.

"Good evening," she said, flashing him a brief smile. "You're not dressed."

"Won't take a minute," Varian assured her.

His own roughshod clothes were folded neatly on his own side of the bed, and he quickly set about stripping off the more formal clothes he had worn during the day.

"You seem to have amassed quite the collection," he added, nodding towards Auriana's knives.

"You know how conspicuous I am when I use my magic. I'll defend us if it comes down to it, of course, but if we can get out without blowing our cover, that would be preferable," she said, shrugging. "Hence…"

"What's that?" Varian asked, pointing to what appeared to be an oddly shaped white rock nestled between two push daggers.

He hadn't noticed it at first, but up close it appeared rather out of place with the rest of her arsenal.

"Hearthstone," Auriana explained. "I made one after I was attacked last year with the magebane. If it _is_ a trap, and they somehow nullify my magic, we still have a way out."

"What if they can generate a dampening field?" Varian wondered.

Auriana tilted her head to the side, and looked at him very strangely.

" _What if they can generate a dampening field_?" she repeated, looking at once baffled and impressed by the fact that he had thought of such a thing.

"What?" Varian protested. "I listen."

"Yes…" Auriana said slowly. "Apparently you do…"

She looked at him askance for a few seconds, before she shook her head and continued on with her explanation.

"I think it's unlikely. Dampening fields are very difficult magic, and generally require multiple mages working in concert to produce. And even if we assume that Vol'jin somehow has half a dozen pet mages following him around, it wouldn't matter. Dampening fields only prevent new magics from being cast. They don't interfere with existing spellwork, like my hearthstone here."

"If Vol'jin has half a dozen mages with him, we might be in trouble," Varian said slyly.

He knew suggesting that Auriana might somehow be outmatched by another mage - or six - was guaranteed to get a rise out of her, and he was proven right a second later as she shot him a cool look and let out a small snort of utter derision.

"Please."

She turned away to slip a slender thumb knife into her boot, and Varian bit back a laugh. She was so wonderfully competitive, and even if he were not precisely pleased to be making the trip to Booty Bay, he was pleased to be with _her_.

Once Varian had traded his regular clothes for his far more dashing pirate garb, he moved to stand beside the mirror so that Auriana might use her magic to make further illusory alterations to his appearance. Varian had seen others use glamours and magical concealments before - most notably Onyxia in her guise of Katrana Prestor - but he had never had such a spell applied to himself. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but the whole idea of hiding who he was made him uneasy in a way that he couldn't quite explain.

"Ready?" Auriana asked.

"As I'll ever be. What are you going to do to me, anyway?"

"Nothing too drastic," Auriana assured him. "I'm not especially talented when it comes to this sort of magic, and glamours are most effective when they're subtle, in any case. The more I change, the easier it is to detect the spellwork. Smaller changes are also easier for me to maintain. I figure if things go south we're going to need me at full strength, so I won't do any sort of major structural changes. It's only a glamour, not a transfiguration."

"Much appreciated. I'd rather not spend the next few hours as a sheep, if it's all the same to you."

"Don't tempt me. You _would_ make a very cute fluffy sheep," she grinned, perhaps in retaliation for his own earlier teasing.

"Cute?!" Varian scoffed. "I'm the bloody King of Stormwind! I'm not _cute_."

Auriana's smile widened at his protestation, and she touched his arm in a way that was at once both very gentle and extremely patronising.

"Whatever you say, Your Majesty," she said sweetly. "Now don't move."

Varian grumbled underneath his breath in mock irritation as she raised her hands, and a second later, he felt a strange tingle building across his cheeks. It was mildly annoying, though not painful; similar to the sensation of a fly landing on his nose. It took all of his self control not to swat the imaginary insect away, but he wasn't sure whether any abrupt movement might cancel the spell. Instead, he stood perfectly still, fighting back the urge to tap his foot on the floor until the strange sensation tickling across his nose finally abated, and Auriana stepped away.

"There. Take a look."

She pulled gently on Varian's shoulder, and turned him around so that he could examine at his new reflection in the mirror. It had been over a decade since he had seen himself without his facial scars, and the effect was so jarring that Varian had to forcibly turn his head from side to side a few times before his mind could accept that he was still staring at himself. The removal of his scars made him appear much younger, but also ever so slightly _off_ , as if he were staring at himself in a gnomish trick mirror at a faire.

Auriana had lightened his hair, too, and somehow smoothed away the weathered lines upon his face. Most notably, she had also made him appear a good deal slimmer and lankier, and a far cry from his normally robust self. Bemused, Varian touched a hand to his chest, and was somewhat surprised to find that he was still as wide and solid as ever. It was a strange feeling, his eyes telling him one thing while his hand another, and he honestly wouldn't have recognised himself if not for the fact that he knew it was only an illusion.

"Hmph," he grunted.

"What do you think?"

Auriana stepped into view behind him, her head tilted slightly to one side as she studied her handiwork.

"Well… it's… it's very…"

Varian trailed off, unable to find the right word to describe his new appearance. The magic was impressive, certainly, as Auriana's magic always was, but it had done nothing to quell his lingering sense of unease.

"It's a bit strange, isn't it?" she said, nodding in agreement with his unspoken concern. "Though I must say, I prefer the scars."

"You do?"

Of all the changes Auriana had made, Varian thought the removal of his scars might be something she wished was permanent. He was about a decade older than she was, and while he was not a man prone to vanity, he had occasionally wondered whether she might prefer a more youthful-looking partner. He had also lived a difficult, violent life, and the ragged marks across his face stood in glaring, unavoidable testimony to that fact.

Auriana, however, seemed to feel rather differently.

"I do," she confirmed. "It's a nice face, but... it's not the face I fell in love with. It's not Varian Wrynn."

Varian turned away from the mirror, studying her face carefully for any sign of hesitation or reluctance.

"You're sure you don't want to make the glamour permanent?" he asked, only half-joking.

"I'm sure," Auriana said firmly. "I wouldn't change you for the world."

She gave him a sweet, wistful smile, and self-consciously touched a hand to her lower back.

"I've thought about glamouring _my_ scar before, you know," she added, her voice soft. "I _did_ , actually, for a while. Right after it first happened. I couldn't bear to look at it. But I eventually realised that as much as I may not like it… it's a part of me."

She reached up to touch Varian's check, just on the point where his scars would have crossed were they still visible, and gently stroked his weathered skin.

"You helped with that a lot, actually," she murmured.

"I did?"

"Surely you understand by now how much I admire you?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised that he didn't know. "You own your scars. You're not ashamed of who you are."

Her blue eyes were wide and sincere, and the undisguised love in her expression was enough to set Varian's heart beating faster. He bent his head to capture her lips in a searing kiss, and he held her close for quite some time before he finally remembered that they had somewhere to be.

"You'd better get on with your own glamouring," he warned her, his voice little more than a husky whisper, "Or else we're not going to make this meeting…"

Auriana nodded, though there was a faint trace of reluctance in her expression as she stepped away and began to repeat the spell on herself. It wasn't an especially spectacular piece of magic to watch - Auriana's face simply went hazy, as if obscured by a thick fog - but a few minutes later, an entirely different person was standing in front of Varian where his wife had been only moments ago.

Auriana had lightened her hair from its normal glossy brown to a dark blonde, and shortened it so it only hang just below the line of her shoulders, instead of tumbling halfway down her back. Her eyes were also now dark brown, rather than blue, and where she had made Varian look smaller, she had managed to make herself appear about fifteen pounds heavier. The weight made her cheekbones appear softer and less angular, too, and her jawline slightly fuller and more squared.

"How do I look?" she asked, twisting from side to side for effect.

"Weird," Varian blurted, before he'd really thought it through.

"' _Weird_ '?"

"Not in a _bad_ sense," he added hurriedly, "Just… not _you_."

Auriana raised her eyebrows skeptically, and crossed her arms over her chest. It was odd seeing such a familiar expression on such an unfamiliar face, and Varian found himself thoroughly disconcerted. She was still pretty, but she was not _his_ Auriana.

"Er… you know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, don't you?" he murmured.

"Nice save," she snorted.

"I'm being sincere!" he protested. "I swear to you, Auri, I..."

For a moment, Varian thought she might have been genuinely offended, but she quelled his doubts with a quick kiss before he could dig himself any further into a hole of his own making.

"It's very odd kissing you when you look like that," he remarked. "Almost like I'm being unfaithful _to_ you… _with_ you. Somehow."

"Not two weeks into our marriage and you've already betrayed me," Auriana gasped, pressing a hand over her heart in mock horror.

Once again, the expression was very _her,_ even though the face was very much not.

"Magic gives me a headache sometimes, you know," Varian growled, scratching his left temple.

For some reason, Auriana seemed to find his consternation highly amusing, and she barked out a short, throaty laugh.

"Get your sword, then, warrior," she told him, her eyes sparkling with their own distinctive fire. "We've got some trolls to meet."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**This is kind of a special milestone chapter for me as it pushes the total length of my series to over 800,000 words. For something that was started as a doodle on the back of a napkin at a boring wedding, I did not honestly expect to still be writing it four years later. Thank you to all readers old and new, and thank you so much for your support and kind words. (Kinda also feel like I should say sorry for the fact that it's so ridiculously long, but anyway...) Enjoy!**

 **Varian**

Once Auriana was satisfied that their magical disguises would hold up under scrutiny, she immediately prepared to open a portal southward. As far as anyone in Stormwind Keep was aware, their King and Queen had retired early for a private dinner, and were not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Both Anduin and Ridley knew the truth, as did Mathias Shaw, though Varian had not elected to take anyone else into his confidence. He doubted that _anyone_ would have guessed that they were really off to a pirate city to negotiate with the Warchief of the Horde, admittedly, though they left directly from their inner chambers so as not to arouse suspicion.

For reasons of both safety and anonymity, Auriana did not wish teleport them into the middle of Booty Bay. Instead, she had spent the entire day making careful study of the ley lines around the area so that she could transport them as close as possible without arousing suspicion. She had tried to explain to Varian the theory behind the complex magical ritual that she assured him would result in their successful reintegration, but most of it had gone over his head. He'd also stopped listening altogether when she had begun to cheerfully explain all the horrific ways in which things could go _wrong_ , and had decided it was best to simply trust in her exceptional ability to bend the fabric of reality to her will.

All the same, that trust was not enough to stop Varian's heart from beating ever so slightly faster as he stepped into the shimmering blue circle that his wife conjured out of thin air. His stomach leapt weightlessly as the portal magic surrounded him, and he was consumed by a feeling of breathless compression. It was far from a pleasant sensation, though fortunately it only lasted for the briefest of seconds before Varian felt the crunch of solid earth beneath his boots once more.

As is turned out, Auriana had managed to land them about half a mile outside the entrance to the city, beneath a small stand of lush ferns. It was already dark out in the jungle, though no less humid as a result. Varian felt sweat begin to bead upon his brow almost immediately, and he slapped a hand to his neck in irritation as he felt the sharp sting of an insect's bite against his skin. He had never been particularly fond of jungle environments, and even less so when he feared that he might be walking out of the cloying, oppressive undergrowth and right into a trap.

Varian watched Auriana hawkishly as she led the way down the rough trail that lead to Booty Bay, half expecting to be ambushed by the entire Horde army at any point. They _were_ disguised, but it was also entirely possible that Vol'jin had given the order to capture _anyone_ who matched the general description of a tall human man and a short human woman travelling alone. Varian wasn't afraid to fight, even if he were outnumbered, but he was acutely aware of the fact that he was travelling into an unknown and potentially dangerous situation with his _wife._ He would forever bear the scars of losing Tiffin, and in some dark and desperate part of his heart he still believed that by wedding Auriana, he had cursed her to a violent and untimely end. Last night, in the safety of his Keep, he had thought the journey worth the risk; but now, watching her traipse through the inky darkness ahead of him, he wasn't quite so sure. They had come too far to turn back, however, and so he had to content himself with clenching and unclenching his fist around the grip of his sword as they walked.

Booty Bay was accessed through a damp, rickety tunnel concealed behind the propped open jaws of a giant shark. The wooden floorboards that lined the path creaked ominously beneath Varian's feet as they made their way through the poorly lit passage, and more than once he felt as if they would simply collapse under his weight and send him tumbling head over heels into a pool of stagnant water. Fortunately, the journey through the tunnel was short, and in no time at all they emerged into the bright lights of the bustling port city.

The first thing Varian noticed about Booty Bay was the pervasive stench of salt and fish. It was seeped into every pore of the city, so much so that within three minutes he had almost forgotten what it was like to smell anything else. Auriana did not seem quite so bothered, though she lacked the preternatural senses that made Varian's sensitive nose twitch in irritation with every step.

The second thing he noticed was the noise. Even at this time of night, Booty Bay was wild and alive with people crammed into every bit of available space. Dozens of traders shouted and sung as they hawked their wares, struggling to be heard over the boisterous carousing of the pirates and ruffians that lined the streets. Varian and Auriana also passed no less than seven loud, violent brawls, as well as a dozen other games and affairs that were morally sketchy at best, and downright illegal at worst. Back in Stormwind, Varian might have had them all arrested, but here in Booty Bay it seemed that such open debauchery was tolerated, if not _celebrated_ outright.

Their destination was not the crowded marketplace, however, but rather a large tavern at the back of the city. Vol'jin's instructions had been very specific, and assuming that his request for a meeting had been in earnest, Varian did not want to miss their rendezvous. To that end, he and Auriana cut a swift path through the throng, pushing their way towards a ramshackle building on the edge of the dock that seemed to act as a beacon for every drunk in the port.

"'The Salty Sailor'?" Varian muttered, raising an eyebrow as he stared up at the small, swaying sign that marked the entrance to the tavern.

"To be fair, not the worst name they could have chosen," Auriana said, grinning back at him over her shoulder as she stepped inside.

The Salty Sailor was arguably the premier tavern in Booty Bay, though that wasn't saying very much. Varian blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, and was immediately assaulted by a fresh wave of sights and sounds and smells. He could see peoples from across Azeroth - everything from hearty tauren to the tiniest of gnomes - all gambling and carousing with little regard for allegiances of faction or race. A goblin band sat in the corner, playing an enthusiastic if somewhat off-tune jig; though their raucous music was barely audible over the dull roar of the crowd. The pungent scent of fish pervaded the room, just as it had outside; mingling with the reek of stale alcohol and sweat. This was a place where loyalty could be bought and sold as easily as a pint of ale, where gold spoke louder than honour, and he had no desire to remain any longer than was strictly necessary.

Varian could concede, however, that it was an ideal location for a covert meeting. Everyone here seemed to be the type of person who was hiding something - or hiding _from_ something - and he pushed his way through the crowd without attracting any more notice than a few raised eyebrows. Anonymity was an odd concept for a man who was used to being the centre of attention almost everywhere he went, though not an entirely unwelcome one.

What concerned Varian far more, however, was the curious glances that followed _Auriana_ as she made her way over to the bar. In her pirate's garb, with her tight pants and her hair tumbling free over her shoulders, she looked rather roguish and fetching, and Varian was not the only one who had noticed. Several eyes followed her movements with great interest, and Varian found himself struggling mightily with the instinct to simply throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of the tavern.

Auriana, of course, had absolutely no idea. She pushed her way through the crowd with a single-minded determination, while Varian lurked behind her seeing perverts in every shadow. He was sure he must have been growling loud enough for the entire tavern to hear, but he didn't care. He didn't put it past one of these filthy pirates to start something, and knew he wouldn't be entirely responsible for his own actions if they did.

Fortunately for everyone involved, they made it to the bar without incident. Auriana moved to lean casually up against the counter, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the stickiness of the wood beneath her hands. Varian initially intended to stand at her side, but after catching the wink of a snub-nosed worgen, he decided that he was best positioned right behind her, where he might shield her body with his own. It probably wasn't the most inconspicuous position, but they were both well-disguised, and he very much doubted that _anyone_ would think to find the King and Queen of Stormwind in a dingy tavern at the bottom of the world.

"There," Auriana whispered suddenly, nudging his ribs with her elbow. "In the back corner. That's Zala'din."

While Varian had been distracted by the Salty Sailor's dubious clientele, it seemed that Auriana had managed to remain on task. She didn't point or make any obvious movements, but Varian followed her directions to see a tall green jungle troll with an enormous red mohawk sitting by himself at a shadowed table at the back of the room. Unlike most other patrons in the bar, the troll appeared unusually sober, watching the crowd with the sharp gaze of a practiced warrior.

"You're sure?"

Varian had met Zala'din before, on one brief occasion, but in the dim light of the tavern he looked like any number of trolls Varian had seen in his lifetime.

"It's him. I'd bet my life on it," Auriana confirmed.

"You might be about to."

Varian vaguely wondered how they might go about approaching the troll, only to find that Auriana was once again two steps ahead of him. She stood up on her tiptoes and waved down the curvaceous goblin woman tending the bar, before slapping two gold coins down on the counter between them with a resounding clang.

"Please send a drink to the red-haired troll in the corner over there," she instructed, pointing. "Doesn't matter what, so long as he knows it was from me."

The goblin bartender's eyes narrowed, and a very strange expression crossed her face. She looked Auriana up and down, her head cocked slightly to one side; then at Varian, and then over to Zala'din in the back corner.

"Eh. Like 'em big, do you?" she snorted, her green lips curling upwards in a wicked grin.

Auriana's gaze flicked to Varian.

"Ah… I suppose so…?" she said, unable to hide the faint, uncertain blush of colour that rose in her cheeks.

The goblin barked out a wild laugh, shaking her head in bemused disbelief as she gave Auriana another once over. She then gave Varian a salacious wink, and turned away to start pouring a drink as requested.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," she called back over her shoulder. "Just make sure you stretch or something first, that looks like a big ask…"

"What does _that_ mean?" Auriana asked, screwing up her nose in confusion as she watched the goblin mix two violently colourful liquids into a single tall glass.

Varian looked down at her in surprise, and let out a soft growl of amusement. At first, he thought she might have been teasing him, playing dumb for comic effect, but there was no trace of deception in her eyes.

"Ah… Auri… you… you do know that she thinks you… ah… _desire_... both me _and_ the troll… at the same time... right?" he asked gently, realising a touch too late that it was _exactly_ the kind of thing that she would miss.

"She… wait, _what_?"

A look of horrified realisation crossed Auriana's face, and her cheeks blazed red enough to put a Horde banner to shame.

"I'd die," she whispered.

Only years of rigorous political training and experience prevented Varian from throwing back his head and roaring with laughter, as he suspected that Auriana's feelings might have been hurt if he did. As brilliant as she was, she could be quite endearingly naïve when it came to certain things, and he didn't want to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she clearly already did. Instead, he bit down a smirk, and turned his attention back to the goblin barkeep as she sashayed over to Zala'din's table.

The crowd was too loud for Varian to hear anything of what the bartender said, though she seemed to be communicating Auriana's message well enough. She grinned as she pointed back towards the bar, and leaned in to say something that made Zala'din frown in confusion. He was clearly thrown by their altered appearances, though he nevertheless accepted the proffered drink, and slowly lifted it towards Auriana in a tentative toast. She leaned around Varian to offer a cautious wave in reply, but the troll did not immediately move to engage them.

Instead, he considered Auriana seriously for a long time, running one thick finger around the rim of his glass as he stared at her across the crowded room. Varian could feel the troll's tension and indecision, even from a distance, and he wondered whether Auriana's glamour might have proven to be a tad _too_ effective.

Eventually, however, the troll shook himself, and gave a strange little shrug of his shoulders. He then finished his drink in one long draw, before rising to his feet and making his way over towards a set of stairs at the back of the main taproom. His movements were slow and unhurried - casual, even - though Varian could see a warrior's readiness in the way he loped up the stairs and disappeared.

"I suppose we ought to follow?" Auriana whispered.

"In a minute."

Varian placed a steadying hand on the small of her back, and cast a wary eye over the tavern. Zala'din appeared to have been alone, but that didn't negate the possibility that there were other soldiers of the Horde hidden amongst the bar patrons, or even that there were other interested parties who might seek to disrupt their meeting.

Varian waited five minutes, then ten; and after fifteen minutes even he was prepared to conclude that no one in the bar was remotely concerned by Zala'din's departure. He still wasn't confident that it was safe, but thus far events had been proceeding according to Vol'jin's instructions, and he was willing to put his trust in the trolls. At least for now, in any case.

To that end, he tapped Auriana on the shoulder, and jerked his head towards the stairs. She nodded in silent agreement, and turned away from the bar to follow after Zala'din with a calm, nonchalant air. Just before she reached the stairwell, however, a very portly and _very_ drunk man sitting at a table with several friends reached out and snagged her by the sleeve. Her eyes widened in surprise as he pulled her back towards his seat, and she stumbled slightly as she twisted awkwardly away from his grasp.

"Ey, love," the drunk slurred, pouring half his ale down his chest as he attempted to take a swig from his stein, "Ditch legs there and come sit on _my_ lap. Promise I'll be _gentle_!"

His companions laughed raucously as the drunk puckered his lips in a grotesque imitation of a kiss, but Varian did not find the matter funny in the slightest. A cloud of red descended over his vision faster than he could have ever imagined, and he reached out to snatch the man's drink from his hand with a low, menacing snarl.

"You lay another finger on her," he whispered icily, "And I'll shove this so far up your arse you'll need all three of your friends here to remove it."

To prove that it was not an idle threat, Varian closed his hand, shattering the glass stein and allowing the ruined pieces to trickle through his fingers and down onto the table below. He was not at all worried about fighting if it came down to it, even though he was outnumbered. There may have been four of them, but they were obnoxious drunks, and _he_ was one of the greatest warriors who had ever lived. Hell, he would have happily taken on the entire bar if it meant protecting Auriana, though even through the haze of his rage he realised that starting a bar brawl would probably be a bad idea.

He decided instead to trade on the threat, leaning forward and baring his teeth in a most sinister snarl. He suspected that the drunken lecher was ultimately a coward, and he was proven right a moment later as the man backpedalled so quickly that he fell out of his chair and landed hard on his rear on the filthy floor.

"Anyone else have any smart comments?" Varian growled, turning to the rest of the group.

Three heads shook an emphatic no, and one of the drunks appeared to be so utterly terrified of Varian's wrath that he wouldn't have been surprised if the man soiled himself.

"Hmph. I thought as much."

Varian turned away in disgust, and put a protective hand on Auriana's shoulder as they mounted the stairs.

"Subtle," she murmured, once they were out of earshot of the rabble below.

"Would you prefer I let him grope you?" Varian snarled, surprised that she would be so tolerant of the drunken pirate's advances.

"No, of course not, but we're supposed to be incognito," she said quietly, hugging her arms around her body. "And that's hardly the worst thing I've ever heard."

"That doesn't make it right," he snapped. "I don't give a damn about subtlety, _no-one_ has a right to speak to you like that. You or any other woman, for that matter."

Auriana paused in her ascent, and turned around so that she could face Varian properly. She was standing three steps above him, and it afforded her the rare opportunity to look him in the eye without having to crane her neck. Her eyes were still the wrong colour, but the tilt of her head was all hers, and it made Varian feel as if he were both staring at a stranger, and the most familiar person in the world, all at the same time. He could not quite read her expression, however, and they stared at one another in silence for a long time before she finally turned away.

"You're a good man," she murmured.

Before Varian could ask her exactly what she meant, she moved away, and rounded the top of the stairs into a short corridor with a low-slung ceiling. Varian followed close on her heels, and let out a soft grunt of surprise as he realised where they were now standing. He had not seen it from down below, but the Salty Sailor was constructed from the bowels of a beached galleon. Upstairs, what must once have been officers' quarters had been converted to private rooms for guests to do… well, whatever it was people did in a place like this. Varian strongly suspected he didn't want to know.

Zala'din was waiting for them outside one of these private rooms, pacing back and forward in agitation as he awaited their arrival. He stood up straighter as Varian and Auriana approached, the top of his towering red mohawk brushing the bottom of the ceiling, and his hand darted to pommel of one of the two vicious looking swords strapped to his hips.

"Little lion?"

His voice was low, tentative, and Varian did not miss the sudden wave of tension that rippled through the lean muscles of his shoulders and back.

"Hello, Zal," Auriana said quietly.

She stepped forward, a hand held out to him in greeting, but the troll stayed back; his expression still wary. As Varian had suspected, Auriana's glamour was so convincing that even Zala'din couldn't quite believe that she was who she claimed to be.

"Prove it."

Auriana was not deterred by his reluctance, and even seemed to have anticipated the question, judging from the way she smoothly removed one glove, and held her bare hand up toward the light. She called on her magic for the briefest of seconds, making her eyes and the scars on her forearms blaze white. Evidently, she had not bothered to glamour her hands beneath her gloves, and Varian supposed that as identifying markings went, her scars were rather unique. Certainly, he didn't know of anyone _else_ who had managed to magically brand themselves from hands to elbows by tearing apart a supposedly unbreakable spell.

It seemed to be enough for Zala'din, at least, and his offensive posture immediately relaxed into something far more friendly. He gestured, and led Varian and Auriana to a small private room in the middle of the makeshift corridor. He locked the door behind him as they entered, and stood back a respectful distance to allow Varian and Auriana to gather their bearings.

Inside, the room was simple, with a sagging, stained bed in one corner and a large table with a few scattered chairs taking up the centre of the room. It was lit only by a few weak hanging lights overhead, all of which looked like they might fail at any moment. It was also laughably too small for anyone larger than a goblin, and Varian nearly smacked his head on an overhead beam as he moved into the brightest part of the room.

If _he_ was uncomfortable, however, the trolls had it far worse. Zala'din had to hunch over at the waist to keep his shoulders and the back of his head from brushing the ceiling, while the taller troll standing at the back of the room had almost been forced into a full crouch. Varian assumed it was Vol'jin, though the heavy hood drawn over his face made it difficult to tell. He'd actually only met the Warchief a handful of times, and each time he _had_ , Vol'jin had been wearing the distinctive battledress of his people, instead of a nondescript brown cloak.

"Warchief?"

Varian made a subtle move to stand in front of Auriana, still half-expecting a fight, though his concerns were allayed somewhat as the crouching troll leaned out of the shadows and pulled back his cowl. With his flaming red hair and tusks as long as a man's forearm, the Warchief of the Horde cut an imposing figure. He had forgone his customary white warpaint, perhaps in an attempt to make himself less recognisable, but his sharp-eyed visage was as fierce and striking as ever.

While Varian may have appreciated the Warchief's impressive physical presence, however, he was not intimidated. He stood up straight and proud - or as straight as was possible in such cramped quarters - and offered Vol'jin a terse nod of greeting. It was not the most effusive or friendly gesture, perhaps, but Varian did not intend to give anything more of himself than was strictly necessary. Not until he had a better grasp of the Warchief's motivations, in any case.

Despite the fact that the whole meeting had been his idea, Vol'jin, too, appeared rather skeptical. The corner of his mouth curled around his tusks as he eyed both Varian and Auriana up and down, and he did not return Varian's admittedly brusque greeting. It was something that could easily be interpreted as a slight, and for a moment Varian couldn't understand why the troll would bring him all this way just to insult him, until he remembered that neither he nor his wife looked at all like themselves. The Warchief was clearly concerned by their uncommon appearance, much as Zala'din had been, and it was equally clear that he was considering the possibility that he had been betrayed. He did not reach for the wicked dagger at his hip, however, instead forcing his face into an expression of cool neutrality as he finally spoke.

"My memory might be fadin' with age, but I coulda sworn ya both had dark brown hair."

Auriana looked to Varian, and he nodded his agreement to her unspoken question. Her eyes came alive with power, and a second later Varian felt a strange tingling sensation wash across his face for the second time that day as she removed the glamour. He had no mirror to confirm his suspicions, of course, but from the flicker of relief that crossed Vol'jin's face, he assumed that he once again looked like himself.

Auriana, too, had resumed her normal appearance, but she did not immediately lower her hands. Instead, she waved her right arm in a wide sweeping motion, and what looked like a faint arcane haze settled over the room. The spell made the hair on Varian's arms stand on end, but he had no idea what its purpose may have been. Certainly, there was no visible effect of the spell aside from the faint shimmer in the air that faded as quickly as it had appeared, though he doubted Auriana would have cast something without good reason.

"Auriana…?"

"Silencing ward," she explained. "It will prevent us from being overheard. Although it's doubtful anyone would be able to hear us over the ruckus downstairs."

"Ya probably right, though I appreciate da effort," Vol'jin said.

He watched her closely as she allowed the glow to fade from about her arms, though his expression was now more curious than wary.

"Ya both came," he observed. "I wasn't sure ya would."

"Your message interrupted our honeymoon," Varian said coldly. "This had better be damn good, Warchief."

"'Honeymoon'?" Vol'jin repeated, looking puzzled. "Ya must forgive me, High King, we don't be havin' dis word in Zandali."

"Ah… after a wedding, it's traditional for a new couple to take a small holiday together. Alone," Auriana explained, blushing slightly at the implication. "You may have similar custom by another name?"

Varian knew little about the intricacies of troll mating, but judging from the pointed look Vol'jin shot his second, it seemed they had a very _different_ way of celebrating their unions.

"Uh… not _exactly_ ," said Zala'din finally.

"Regardless, I'm sure you would not appreciate having your private time with _your_ wife interrupted, or whatever it is you might call her," Varian growled, trying and largely failing to hide his irritation.

He felt Auriana stiffen uncomfortably beside him, though she did not say a word. It was a petty thing, perhaps, but Varian was already on edge from the scuffle down in the bar, and he was not yet certain that Vol'jin's overtures were genuine. He had agreed to come, yes, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

"I assure ya, it not be my intention ta interrupt ya courtship ritual, Ya Majesty," Vol'jin said quickly, raising an enormous hand in a gesture of entreaty. "In truth, I was pleased ta hear ya had taken another mate."

"Is that so?"

The words came out more peevishly than even Varian himself had intended, and he sighed. He could practically _hear_ Anduin's voice in his ear, admonishing him to _play nice_. After all, it wasn't Vol'jin's fault that Varian's honeymoon had been cut short. Not really. It certainly wasn't as if Varian had sent a detailed copy of his itinerary to the Horde leadership that Vol'jin could plan around...

"Varian," he grunted stiffly.

"What?" Vol'jin's furrowed brow lifted in confusion.

"If it's just us four, you may as well call me Varian," he elaborated.

It was an awkward attempt at a peace offering, but one that it seemed Vol'jin was willing to accept.

"As ya wish," he drawled. "Ya welcome ta call me Vol'jin, and dis be da captain of my guard, Zala'din."

"We've met," Varian said shortly. "And obviously you both know my wife, Auriana."

Vol'jin nodded in her direction, but she somewhat ignored in him in favour of Zala'din. Once she was satisfied that the room was secure, Auriana's attention had been firmly fixed on her troll friend and former comrade in arms. It was clear to Varian, at least, that she wished to greet him properly, but she had held back out of politeness - or perhaps because of some sense of obligation to Varian himself.

"Go on," he muttered, nudging her forward with his elbow.

Auriana hesitated for a brief second, but her uncertainty was ultimately short lived. It made Varian uncomfortable, both because Zala'din was Horde, and because he _was_ admittedly overprotective of his new wife… but he nevertheless forced himself to remain still as she stepped forward to embrace the green-skinned troll. She was so small that she practically disappeared into his arms, but there was something undeniably gentle about the way Zala'din hugged her close, and even Varian had to admit that there was genuine affection in the troll's eyes as he leaned down and whispered something in her ear.

Varian couldn't make out the words, even with his exceptional hearing, though it appeared Zala'din's comment had amused Auriana. She let out a short chuckle, and returned his embrace with equal warmth. Somewhat to Varian's surprise, Vol'jin did not object, instead watching Auriana and his second with nothing more than an air of mild curiosity. Evidently, Varian was the only one who found their familiarity uncomfortable, and he awkwardly shuffled his feet as he waited for them to part.

Despite his unease, however, the quiet moment between Zala'din and Auriana actually did a great deal to lessen the pervading sense of tension in the room. Varian was now fairly confident that the meeting was not some kind of trap, though he still wasn't sure what Vol'jin wanted. The towering troll's expression gave nothing away as he took a seat at the ramshackle table in the centre of the room, and gestured for Varian to do the same. The Warchief's body language was open, even inviting, but Varian nevertheless paused for a moment to consider both trolls, looking for _any_ sign of duplicity or danger…

And finding none.

He sighed, and pulled out a seat for Auriana, before taking his own place directly opposite Vol'jin.

"So," he said, without any further preamble. "Why are we here?"

"Not one for small talk, eh?" Vol'jin observed.

His sharp eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but from the slight twitch of his tusks, Varian suspected the Warchief might have found his blunt approach somewhat amusing.

"It's never been one of my talents, no," he confirmed, "And I assume you didn't bring us all this way for the... ambience."

At that precise moment, they heard a loud thump as someone in the room next door was thrown bodily against the adjoining wall; hard enough to rattle the dingy lights suspended overhead. A few muffled grunts followed, though whether they signalled pleasure or pain, Varian couldn't tell. Perhaps both.

"Ya speak da truth, mon," Vol'jin agreed, eyeing the wall with distaste.

He cleared his throat, and his expression grew serious as he took a moment to find the right words.

"When we sent our troops through ta Draenor, we signed a truce agreement for da duration of da conflict," he started. "Even after our troops returned ta Azeroth, dis truce has - for da most part - held."

"For the most part," Varian agreed, folding his arms warily across his chest as he considered his opposite number. "What of it?"

"Azeroth has suffered much in da past few years. Da Lich King, Deathwing…"

"Garrosh," Varian growled.

He held no weapon, but his fingers flexed as if he were grasping a hilt. Vol'jin had fought honourably against Garrosh's tyranny when roused, but Varian could not help but to wonder how many lives might have been saved if the Horde had been willing to move against their despotic Warchief sooner.

"Garrosh," Vol'jin nodded, his eyes clouding with some kind of dark, unreadable emotion. "I ain't so blind dat I can't see where da Horde have done wrong."

He leaned forward, tenting his three-fingered hands as he studied Varian with great interest. The dim light overhead cast strange shadows across his painted face, distorting his features and making him appear huge and otherworldly. In any other context, he might have looked terrifying, but Varian saw no hatred or threat of violence glinting in the fire of the Warchief's reddened eyes. Instead, he saw only cool cleverness, and a simple but profound desire to do what was right by the people he was tasked to lead.

It was a desire Varian himself understood all too well.

"We have _all_ benefited from da Draenor armistice - and from what my druids and shaman be tellin' me, so has Azeroth," Vol'jin continued. "I tink it be well past time we made an effort to formalise dis peace."

Varian exchanged a brief glance with Auriana, who looked equally thrown by Vol'jin's declaration. He had assumed if Warchief were to suggest anything, it would be something small - perhaps the opening of some of the closed trade routes in Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms, or the like - but it seemed Vol'jin had far greater ambitions.

"You're suggesting a treaty?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"I tink we both know dat a formal peace treaty be still a long way off," Vol'jin said slowly, choosing his words with great care. "Da Alliance still tink my people are monsters and invaders. Da Horde tink yours are murderers and tyrants - but dat don't mean we can't be makin' a start."

Varian rankled slightly at the insult to his people, but he supposed that it was a fair assessment of the prevailing opinion amongst the Horde. He also could not deny that there were many in the Alliance who very much believed the Horde to be monsters - or worse - and so he swallowed back his pride as he spoke.

"What are you suggesting, then?"

"A Tournament," Vol'jin proposed. "A chance for de Alliance and da Horde ta come together outside da end of da world, eh?"

"A Tournament?" Varian repeated, certain he had to have misheard.

Whatever he _had_ been expecting - trade deals, a peace treaty, a declaration of outright war - the possibility of staging a friendly Tournament amongst once sworn enemies had not been a consideration.

"Competitors would represent dere home cities or tribes, not dere factions," Vol'jin continued. "Horde would compete against Horde, and Alliance against Alliance, too. We would come together ta celebrate da best of all of us."

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he let out a dry chuckle.

"Let's be honest, if dere be one ting da Horde and Alliance have in common, it be dat we appreciate da _finer_ points of hittin' one another with pointy objects."

"I'll give you that one, if nothing else," Varian conceded.

He had admittedly been caught off guard by Vol'jin's suggestion, but he could also see the underlying wisdom in such a pursuit. As the Warchief had correctly surmised, while the war on Draenor and the subsequent year of peace had represented something of a turning point for relations between the Alliance and the Horde, they were not yet so friendly as to make a formal, binding peace treaty a viable option. A Tournament, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. The Alliance and Horde had come together in similar fashion once before, during Tirion Fordring's Argent Tournament in Northrend. The Argent Tournament had been held as a means of finding the strongest fighters from each faction ahead of the assault on Icecrown Citadel, and despite a few exceptions, it had represented an unusual moment of cooperation in their turbulent history.

It had admittedly been a moment borne of fear and desperation, but the world had changed dramatically since then - as had Varian himself - and he wondered if Vol'jin's plan was not as outlandish as it might have initially seemed. If there was one thing Varian could respect about the Horde, it was their sense of honour and fighting spirit, and he wondered if Vol'jin and his allies might see something similar of value in the Alliance. Tournaments were all about honour and skill in combat, but within an underlying framework of celebration and camaraderie, rather than the pure competitiveness of the battlefield. A peace treaty may have been a bridge too far, but a Tournament; a chance for the Alliance and the Horde to meet on equal ground, as _people_ instead of enemies...

"Why approach me now?" he asked, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. "The war in Draenor ended a year ago - why not then, fresh off the back of a shared victory?"

"A fair question," Vol'jin said, nodding. "I suppose I wasn't sure whether da truce could last. Fightin' together ta prevent an invasion or da end of the world is one ting, but coexisting in peacetime… I dunno, it seems ta be harder, eh? No point us goin' ta all dis fuss if we be at each other's throats a month later."

Vol'jin turned away from Varian for the first time, and his shrewd gaze found Auriana.

"And den dere's _her_ ," he added.

" _Me_?" Auriana wondered. "What did I do?"

For most of the conversation she had remained silent, watching Vol'jin with the same wary intensity Varian recognised from his time fighting opposite her in the Stormwind arena. To the untrained eye, she looked relaxed and comfortable in her chair, but Varian knew her well enough to know that she was prepared for a fight at any moment. Auriana may have trusted Zala'din, and by extension Vol'jin, but that didn't mean she was prepared to let her guard down entirely.

"Ya earned da Horde's respect for whatcha did on Draenor, and for da lives you saved, fightin' alongside us," Vol'jin said, inclining his head towards her in a gesture of sincere regard. "More respect dan ya know, I tink."

"Considering I assumed the Horde had _no_ respect for me, that's probably true," she quipped.

The Warchief's heavy brow ridge twitched in what Varian thought might have been another expression of amusement, though he did not otherwise acknowledge Auriana's wit.

"As of last week, ya also now da wife of da High King of de Alliance. Dat gives ya power," he observed.

Auriana's sharp blue eyes narrowed.

"You think I have influence over Varian," she surmised, her voice cooling.

"Dontcha?"

Vol'jin looked between Varian and Auriana, almost as if he were daring either one of them to object. Of course, what he said was true. Varian didn't even need to look at his wife to picture the exact expression on her face, nor did she need to speak for him to know exactly what she was thinking. He trusted her and valued her opinion above that of anyone else on the planet, and it seemed that Vol'jin was only too aware of this fact.

"I should warn you, Warchief," Auriana said evenly, "I don't like being used."

"Not at all my intention, little Queen," Vol'jin corrected hurriedly. "I meant only dat ya be a good symbol. Livin' proof dat da Horde and da Alliance can work wit each other, wit the right leadership."

His fingers twitched, and his eyes flicked to Zala'din. The movement was slight, almost imperceptible to an untrained eye, and with a start, Varian realised that the Warchief was _nervous_. He hid it well, but for the first time, Varian truly appreciated how much of a risk the Warchief had taken by reaching out to the Alliance. Vol'jin must have feared walking into a trap, just as Varian had, but it also seemed that he was equally concerned by the possibly of Varian's rejection.

"I tink we can be such leaders… Varian," he added, his voice low and deep in his heavy accent. "You and I."

Varian's brow furrowed, and he leaned in so that he and Vol'jin were barely a foot apart. He moved slowly, so as not to appear overly threatening, and met the Horde Warchief with a level, unblinking stare. Pretty words and promises were no match for the truth that could be found in another man's eyes, and yet once again Varian found nothing save for an honest desire to do right by the world, and a strange, mirrored reflection of the weight of his own crown.

"I'm not unaware of my own reputation, Vol'jin," he growled softly. "Do you really believe the Horde would value my 'leadership'?."

"Azeroth come a long way since da First War. The world's changed, and we gotta be changin' with it. Or we get left behind."

Vol'jin looked away.

"Ya changed," he said, nodding his head in Varian's direction. "Slowly, maybe, but ya did. Orgrimmar showed dat. So did Draenor. Ya might not have fought, but the people under ya command did ya proud."

Varian raised his eyebrows, and looked briefly to Auriana; still silent and watchful in her chair. He didn't disagree with Vol'jin's assessment, but found it rather odd to realise that the Warchief had given him such consideration. Trolls and humans shared a long and bloody history, though it seemed Vol'jin was willing to leave the past behind for the sake of the future of Azeroth.

"I must say, I didn't come here expecting flattery," Varian admitted, finding himself reluctantly impressed by the Warchief's pragmatism and political nous.

"Not flattery," Vol'jin countered swiftly. "Da truth. Ya may be disliked by some in da Horde. Hated, even. But no one doubts ya strength. Or ya honour."

" _Some_?"

Varian snorted, unable to help himself, and this time, even Vol'jin laughed. The sound was harsh and raucous, but also strangely contagious, and for a moment they were not two leaders, but simply two men sharing a brief moment of levity. As unexpected as it was, in a way it was also exactly what Varian had hoped for out of this meeting - a chance to speak to another living, breathing being, and not merely a title or a crown.

"Very well," he conceded, sobering, "I suppose I can understand your reasoning. But then why _here_? Why not approach me through proper diplomatic channels?"

Vol'jin paused as he looked for the right words, but Auriana figured it out before he could articulate his thoughts.

"You're not sure your own allies would support the idea," she said quietly.

It was merely an observation, not an accusation; but an accurate one, judging from the look on the Warchief's face. He considered her thoughtfully for a second, then nodded.

"Da Horde… ya gotta understand, we ain't like de Alliance," he mused, rapping his knuckles against the table. "Da Horde are survivors. Misfits. Each of us as different as night and day. In some ways it makes us strong. In some ways it makes us weak. But ta lead such a group, ya gotta look strong. Ya gotta _be_ strong."

Varian, too, understood the challenge of balancing the disparate needs of his various allies, but he could concede that Vol'jin probably had it worse. Wrangling Sylvanas alone was arguably more difficult than any negotiating he had ever had to do, and he did not envy the Warchief in the slightest.

"Not all of dem are gonna come easy on dis," Vol'jin added, shrugging. "I tink it be da right ting ta do, but it gonna take some talkin'..."

Varian nodded his understanding.

"... and you don't want to put it to your allies until you've sure of me. Little point putting in the work and making compromises to get them on board, only for me to turn them down. It makes you look foolish," he realised, finishing the Warchief's sentence for him.

"Not ta mention it could make da whole ting worse if da Alliance rejects da offer. Better ta feel ya out ahead of time," Vol'jin concluded.

Varian let out a quiet sound of acknowledgement, but he did not immediately seek to say anything further. He was perhaps the only other person on Azeroth who truly understood the burden Vol'jin carried as Warchief, and if nothing else, he was impressed by the troll's courage in seeking out an audience. Vol'jin's plan was ambitious, admittedly, but his arguments had been clear and logically sound, and it left Varian in something of a conundrum. On one hand, Vol'jin represented the _Horde_ , and the whole complicated, sordid history that came with them. On the other, he had proven himself to be a clever and honourable leader, and his offer represented a real chance for lasting peace on Azeroth.

"I know dis be a lot ta consider," the Warchief said finally, correctly reading the hesitation in Varian's silence. "We gonna give ya a moment ta think it over."

He motioned to Zala'din and both trolls stood, pulling up their cowls as they stepped out into the corridor. Auriana lifted her chin to watch the lights bobble overhead as the door closed behind them, before looking back to Varian with a small, thoughtful sigh.

"Still warded?" he asked shortly.

She nodded.

"Yes. You could scream bloody murder in here and no one would be any the wiser."

"Unlike our friends next door," Varian scoffed, nodding toward the adjoining wall.

"I can't figure out whether they're lovers or fighters," Auriana said, shaking her head in bemusement.

The dull thumping on the adjoining wall had continued intermittently throughout their conversation with the Warchief, and thus far had showed no signs of abating.

"I'm not sure I want to know," Varian scowled.

He leaned back in his chair, being careful not to tip it over, and fixed Auriana with a thoughtful stare.

"What do you think?"

"Vol'jin _is_ right," she murmured. "There's an opportunity here. The peace we've enjoyed over the last year is unprecedented."

"I'm not sure," Varian mused. "If the Horde was just Vol'jin… or the tauren - hell, even the orcs, after Garrosh - but he said it himself, they don't all necessarily share an ideology. Do you really see Sylvanas coming around on this? It's a nice thought, but if we're not all in, then we're all out."

Auriana considered his counterpoint seriously, biting her lip in deep concentration.

"I think Sylvanas is a pragmatist, if nothing else," she said slowly. "She may not like peace talks, but if it's something that might keep you from marching north to retake Lordaeron..."

"Do you think I want Lordaeron?"

"Not especially," Auriana said, shrugging. "Any attempt to retake the city right now would likely result in a worldwide war, and for what? So we can rule over a decaying, blight-infested husk? We'd lose a lot more than we'd gain."

She spoke with surprising confidence, given how much she tended to agonise over her new role as Queen, and Varian couldn't help but to smile at her phrasing.

"What?" she asked, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear as she caught his stare.

"You said 'we'," he explained. "You're taking to this rather well, little Queen."

His tone was light, teasing, but he hoped she could hear the genuine pride behind his words.

"Oh, don't you start," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

She tapped her fingers on the table, and gave him her best attempt at a stern look.

"Focus, Varian," she chided.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

He smirked, then added more seriously, "There will be objections on our side. Genn, for one."

"I don't blame him," Auriana murmured. "I know Anduin isn't… isn't _my_ child - and I wouldn't ever want to presume - but having grown closer to him, I… well, I understand the depths of Genn's anger a great deal more than I once did."

Her blue eyes flashed protectively, and her jaw tightened in determination. She seemed somewhat hesitant to express the depth of her feelings for Anduin, though in truth Varian could not have been more pleased. He did not consider her a replacement for Anduin's mother - and nor did he think she wanted to _be_ a replacement - but he wanted very badly for them to see one another as family.

"That said… Genn's conflict with Sylvanas is largely personal in nature," Auriana continued, rising to pace about the small room as she thought out loud. "It doesn't extend to the rest of the Horde in quite the same way. I think he could be civil, if he were convinced that it was to the benefit of the Alliance."

"And the rest of them?"

Varian was not asking because he didn't have his own ideas, but rather because he wanted to test Auriana's political reasoning. He hadn't chosen her to be his queen solely because he loved her. That was a large part of it, though he would not have wed her and placed her within a position of power within the Alliance if he had believed she was incapable of ruling by his side. There were some people, Varian knew, who believed a queen to be little more than ornamentation for her king, and a means by which to produce heirs, but he had never been one of them. He viewed Auriana as a partner, an _equal_ , and he could not abide cruelty or empty-headedness when it came to the rulership of his kingdom, or the Alliance as a whole. Of course, he doubted he would have fallen for anyone like that in first place, but he was nonetheless determined to ensure that Auriana had a sufficient understanding of her new place in the Alliance.

"Moira will follow your lead either way. She's still eager to prove the value of her people to the Alliance, and her personal worth as a leader to you," Auriana started. "She will convince the other Hammers to do the same."

She paused, and bit her lip with a thoughtful scowl.

"Tyrande and the night elves… I'm not sure. There's hostility there, but their druids _have_ worked alongside members of the Horde in the Cenarion Circle for years. Both Malfurion and Broll are close to Hamuul Runetotem; they may be able to sway her opinion. I think Aysa would support a path towards peace, as would Velen - even if a tournament may not be the way he personally would have gone about it. Mekkatorque and the gnomes have less reason to hate the Horde than most, I think he would be supportive, too."

Auriana's summary was both succinct and accurate, though Varian did not immediately offer her his praise. Instead, he kept his expression neutral as he asked perhaps the most difficult question of all.

"And then there's me," he said. "What do I think?"

Auriana was far too clever not to realise that she was being tested, but she answered honestly, without either hesitation or guile.

"You're… skeptical. You don't trust the Horde… but you can see the value in a lasting peace agreement," she surmised. "At this point in our history, a war serves no one - if there's a genuine chance to protect Alliance lives, you'll take it. You wouldn't hesitate to say no if the offer came from someone like Garrosh, but Vol'jin is different."

"I see," Varian said, once again giving nothing away. "And you?"

"I think… the world is bigger than the Horde. You know Khadgar and I have been searching the Nether for Gul'Dan. The Burning Legion is coming. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of _when_ , and a divided Azeroth cannot hope to defeat them."

Auriana let out a low, drawn-out sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"The orc who destroyed my family is dead, as are most of those who followed him. I'm not afraid of ghosts. But I am afraid of losing what I have. I'm afraid of losing my new family. Of losing _you_. If we can find a way to make this ceasefire a true peace… then I'll sleep a lot sounder in our bed at night."

She shrugged.

"And if Vol'jin or his Horde turns on us, then he'll become just another footnote on the long and sorry list of people who have tried and failed to kill me. I may not be the greatest political mind on Azeroth, but I know what I'm worth in fight. I know how to _win_."

Auriana's eyes blazed, and she was so fierce and beautiful that she made Varian's chest swell with pride. It wouldn't do to dwell on such dire possibilities, not when Vol'jin had come before them in the spirit of cooperation, but if it ever came to a fight, Varian was very glad she was on his side.

"You'd take on the entire Horde yourself?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"For you? For the Alliance? Certainly, if they were ever to force my hand. I don't think it would ever come to that - certainly not under Vol'jin's leadership - but… still."

Auriana cocked her head to the side.

"You don't believe I could?"

"Quite the opposite," Varian said quickly. "If the Horde were to renege on any promises made between us, they ought to be very, _very_ afraid."

He pushed back his rickety chair and rose to his feet, crossing the room in three quick strides so that he might pull her into his arms.

"I may not believe in much, Auriana," he whispered, brushing his lips across the top of her head, "But I believe in you."

The raucous grunting and banging coming from the room next door was not at all conducive to such a heartfelt moment, but Varian still had eyes only for Auriana. He needed her strength, and he needed her faith in _him._ Vol'jin's offer had been wholly unexpected, and as innocuous an event as a Tournament may have seemed from the outside, Varian instinctively knew that his acquiescence would mean great changes for Azeroth - though whether it would prove to be a _good_ decision, he couldn't say. He felt as if he were standing at a crossroads; on the edge of a cliff with the entire weight of the world on his shoulders - but for once he wasn't standing alone.

"So where does that leave us, do you think?" he asked, breaking the thoughtful silence that had fallen between them.

Auriana's assessment of his position had been correct thus far, and he was curious to see whether she had reached the same conclusion as he.

"You'll accept Vol'jin's offer," she said slowly. "Tentatively, and subject to adequate terms and conditions to ensure the safety of our people... but you'll say yes."

She leaned backwards so that she might look him in the eye, and her lips quirked upwards in a playful smirk.

"Not least because _you_ want to compete in the Tournament."

Varian scowled.

"That isn't the point," he huffed, though of course Auriana was absolutely right.

It had been a long time since he had fought in the arena, and he was damned if he didn't miss it sometimes. Life as a gladiator had been hard, but in some ways, he had been freer as Reghar's slave than he was as a king. He missed the simplicity of the fight; the crystal clear clarity of the arena in which the only rules were kill or be killed - and he was also rather eager to prove that he was still the best.

 _Might be nice if she took more than two seconds to see right through you, though,_ he thought drily.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Varian couldn't help but to grin at his wife's remarkable understanding of his inner self, and he tightened his arms around her slender waist.

"I've missed this," he murmured.

"Negotiating with trolls in a debaucherous pirate backwater?" Auriana said archly.

As if to emphasise her point, the lights overhead rattled as yet another body - or chair, or whatever it was - hit the wall.

"Ha, ha," he growled. "I meant having a partner. I've missed not having to face these kind of decisions alone."

Auriana returned his smile, and reached out to fiddle idly with one of the dull brass buttons that lined his coat.

"Am I right, then? You mean to say yes?"

"I do," Varian confirmed. "I can't say I am without reservation, but… I believe the Warchief's intent to be genuine. And if there's a chance to save more lives in the future by securing a peace in the present… I would be derelict in my duty as High King to refuse."

It was not the answer he would have given even four or five years ago, but as Vol'jin himself had pointed out, Varian _had_ changed. He was not afraid to fight for peace, or to protect his home and his people, but he had come to learn that there were times when it was best to pursue another path.

"In that case, I suppose we ought to call them back," Auriana suggested, glancing back over her shoulder towards the door.

"We should," Varian agreed. "First things first, though…"

He slipped his fingers beneath her chin, and had just barely brushed his lips against hers when the door opened, and Vol'jin and Zala'din stepped back into the room unannounced. Auriana pulled away immediately, her cheeks blazing crimson, while Zala'din's mouth split into a cheeky grin so wide it took up almost half his face.

" _Really?"_ Varian muttered.

Evidently, in addition to being a wise leader and a skilled shadow hunter, Vol'jin was also possessed of an uncanny ability to interrupt him at the most inopportune of times.

"Apologies, Ya Majesty," he said, carefully closing and locking the door behind him. "Tings be gettin' a little rough downstairs, we thought it best not ta wait too long."

"No matter, Warchief," Varian growled. "We were just about to call you back in anyway."

"Yeah. I can see dat."

Vol'jin' tusks twitched, and Varian thought he saw the faintest gleam of laughter in the troll's eyes. Was the Warchief _teasing_ him?

Before he could ask, however, Vol'jin spoke once more; the brief flash of his amusement vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"So. Whatcha tink?"

"I don't trust the Horde," Varian said bluntly, "And the fact that you have approached me before you approached your allies does not engender confidence. You do not have an easy task ahead of you, Vol'jin, should you intend to see this idea of yours through to fruition."

Vol'jin's features clouded with genuine disappointment, though it seemed he had already resigned himself to Varian's refusal.

"I appreciate ya honesty," he said heavily, "And for takin' da time to hear me out."

"I'm not finished," Varian continued, raising a hand, "While I will not act without the support of my own allies, and while my ultimate agreement is conditional upon the implementation of adequate measures to ensure the safety of all participants… I will support this endeavour. In principle, at least."

"I… I must admit, dis is somewhat unexpected," Vol'jin said, a spark of sincere hope kindling deep in his eyes.

"And yet you brought me all this way?"

"Some risks be worth taking," Vol'jin answered evenly.

He champed his tusks, and reached out a bright blue hand towards Varian. It seemed that some gestures held the same meaning regardless of culture, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Varian stepped forward to clasp the Warchief's forearm in accord.

"I agree. Circumstances... change," he said slowly, unblinking as he stared the Warchief down. "As do people. Change is not always easy, but… that does not mean it is an unworthy pursuit. I will do what is in my power to aid this cause. For Azeroth."

There was still a long way to go if the Warchief's plan were ever to become a reality, but as Vol'jin himself had suggested, they had to start _somewhere_.

"Dat's all I needed ta know," Vol'jin said, nodding. "I will contact ya through formal channels soon, but for now I tink it be best dat we all return home. It would be a very bad ting if we were ta be discovered."

"Very bad indeed," Varian agreed. "We should depart."

"Did you travel by ship from Ratchet?" Auriana asked, speaking up for the first time since the two trolls had re-entered the room.

She had been listening intently, as had Zala'din, but both had remained silent while their respective faction leaders debated.

"We did," Vol'jin confirmed, exchanging a quick glance with Zala'din. "Ya got a faster way back?"

"With a little luck, I could probably get you to Orgrimmar," she said thoughtfully, "But I don't think you'd be willing to give me the access codes for the wards around the city."

She cast a sly sidelong glance at Zala'din, who smirked and shook his head. The sombre mood in the room had grown instantly lighter the moment Varian and Vol'jin had clasped hands, and it seemed he was not the only one who had noticed.

"So… I suppose Ratchet will have to do," Auriana concluded.

Her eyes flared, and a few seconds later a portal resolved into being at the back of the room. Through it, Varian glimpsed the dusky red hills of the Barrens; so unlike the lush green forest that surrounded his own home. It was a stark reminder of how different they were, the Alliance and the Horde; each borne of radically different backgrounds and ideals. The history of both factions was long and turbulent, both within and without; each no stranger to violence and bloodshed… but as the past year had shown, they _were_ both capable of existing peacefully, if not quite in perfect harmony.

Varian let out a short sigh as he watched Zala'din bid Auriana farewell, and disappeared through the portal. Vol'jin, however, took his time. He paused at the shimmering blue threshold, forced into a crouch by the low ceiling, and inclined his head towards Varian and Auriana with sincere respect.

"Until next time, High King. And you, little Queen," he said quietly.

Varian returned the gesture in kind, and once again he was struck by the sense that he was standing on the precipice of new era for Azeroth. Whether for good or ill, however, only time would tell.

"Until next time," he murmured. "Warchief."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Hi all - Happy Winter Veil! Apologies for the delay on this one, work got a little crazy with the end of the year. Things then got a little crazier when I adopted a pup for Christmas - she's a rescue dog and has been pretty badly abused so she's needed a lot of my time and attention while she's been settling in. I'm happily on break now though so I'm hoping to do a lot of writing. Hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season!**

 **Anduin**

Anduin paced back and forth around his father's study, anxiously awaiting Varian and Auriana's return from Booty Bay. They had left hours ago, at sunset, and had not been heard from since. Anduin was one of only three other people who knew where they had gone, and even though he was certain Mathias Shaw would have found some way to keep an eye on them, he couldn't help but to worry. At the time, Anduin had been rather insistent that his father and Auriana take the opportunity to speak to Warchief Vol'jin, but it was only now that he fully appreciated that doing so might have put them in very grave danger. He knew his father had been concerned about the possibility of a Horde trap, and if even if the Horde _had_ called for the meeting in good faith, there were plenty of other things that could go wrong in a place like Booty Bay...

With an irritable sigh, Anduin tugged at the hem of his coat, and increased his pace as he circled the room. He had grown so concerned for his father and Auriana's safety as the evening progressed that he had barely touched his dinner, though he now somewhat regretted the decision as his stomach grumbled loudly in protest. He had also briefly considered sneaking a drink from his Varian's private liquor cabinet to ease his nerves, only to realise that doing so on an empty stomach would probably be ill-advised. Instead, he had settled for making laps of the oak-lined study, pausing only to glance at the incessantly ticking clock above the fireplace when it chimed the hour.

Anduin had always desired peace between the factions of Azeroth, ever since he had been old enough to understand what the word 'peace' meant, though it seemed that the world around him tended to fall back into chaos more often than not. His own father had frequently been a source of his frustrations, and in truth he had been somewhat surprised by Varian's willingness to meet Vol'jin in Booty Bay. Anduin understood Varian's anger at the Horde, but had always hoped that he would one day be able to forgive the losses he had suffered. It had only been recently, however, that he began to believe that a true peace might become reality. Varian had shown unusual consideration and restraint during the Siege of Orgrimmar, and later when committing Alliance troops to joint actions in Draenor under Auriana's command. On the Horde side, Vol'jin had proven himself to be a clever and insightful ruler, and Anduin hoped that today's meeting was a sign of more positive things to come.

As he paced, he fell so deeply into thought that he nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to the study finally opened, and Varian and Auriana stepped inside. For a moment, he almost didn't recognise them, dressed as they were in pirate garb that was wholly unlike anything they wore on a day-to-day basis - though, strangely, the roguish look rather suited the both of them. Varian looked every inch the rakish pirate king with his shirt and coat unbuttoned nearly to the waist and his unruly hair barely held back by a red bandana, while Auriana was poured into a dashing leather ensemble that was so tight Anduin wasn't entirely sure how she could breathe.

The second thing he noticed, with some relief, was that they were both alive and still in one piece. For once, even Auriana seemed to have returned from an adventure without any visible injuries, though he could not tell from looking at her whether the meeting had gone well. Anduin then turned to his father, but he, too, was similarly difficult to read. He looked faintly weary, as if he'd gone a night without sleep, and he acknowledged Anduin's presence with only a short nod as he made to pour himself a drink.

"Father? What happened?" Anduin asked, after a few moments of silence. "What did Vol'jin want? Was it a trap? Are you both alright? Did you have any troubles in Booty Bay? _Please_ tell me you didn't antagonise anyone…"

He spoke quickly; hours of built up tension exploding outwards in a rapid torrent of words that poured from his mouth with more force than he had expected.

"If you'd take a breath, son, I could tell you," Varian said wryly, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

Anduin's fingers twitched as he took a seat on the chaise, and forced himself to watch patiently as Varian fixed himself a glass of whiskey. His father seemed to be moving unnaturally slowly, as if he were making a deliberate attempt to heighten Anduin's anticipation, and it was some time before he finally turned and spoke.

"It seems the Warchief wishes to hold a Tournament to improve interfactional relations," Varian explained, though Anduin still found it difficult to tell whether he thought the idea good or bad.

"A Tournament?" he repeated. "You mean… a _fighting_ Tournament? How does that help?"

"The Warchief thought it one of the few things both sides could agree on. A chance to show off our martial prowess in a friendly environment, rather than an adversarial one," Varian said.

He took a sip of his drink, and ran his weathered fingers around the outside of the glass with a contemplative expression.

"I'm inclined to agree with his assessment."

"Really? You've told me stories of your time in the Crimson Ring, and it didn't sound… friendly," Anduin pointed out. "What if someone were to get seriously hurt? What if someone like _you_ were to be hurt? Surely that could make things worse?"

He knew that Varian and Auriana both took great pleasure in sparring with another, though he had never really seen the appeal of fighting as a recreational activity. He had trained with Auriana in the arena, too, but had done so out of necessity and a desire to improve his skills as a priest, not because he found fighting itself to be an intrinsically enjoyable activity. He _certainly_ didn't understand the delight his father and Auriana took in returning home from an afternoon in the arena covered in dirt and bruises, though it seemed that Warchief Vol'jin _did_.

"This would be a refereed Tournament, similar to officially sanctioned matches on the arena circuit; not at all like the bouts your father fought in the Crimson Ring," Auriana explained, folding her arms across her chest. " _That_ was an underground slave tournament - very dangerous and _very_ illegal."

"Sanctioned arena matches have rules around the kind of spells and weaponry that one is permitted to use, and there are protections in place to ensure no-one gets seriously injured," Varian agreed, nodding. "Arena matches are a test of skill and intelligence, where the Crimson Ring was more a test of pure strength… and brutality."

His words seemed to suggest that formal arena matches were a better option, but his tone said something different, and Anduin could have have sworn that he sounded faintly disappointed by the suggestion that no one would be _seriously_ hurt.

"We didn't have time to discuss the details, but I assume that Vol'jin doesn't intend to throw people in a pit and have them fight to the death. It would be a _tad_ counterproductive," Auriana added, as if reading Anduin's mind.

"In that case… I suppose I could see the value in such an approach," he said slowly.

While he would not personally have suggested a Tournament as a means to bridge the divide between Alliance and Horde, he still saw Vol'jin's offer as a step in the right direction. Of course, that didn't explain why the Warchief had insisted upon a meeting in Booty Bay, nor why his overtures had been shrouded in such secrecy.

"Why did he want to meet in Booty Bay, though? Why all the cloak and dagger?" Anduin asked, voicing his concerns aloud.

"Vol'jin wanted my tacit support of his plan before he made formal overtures to the rest of the Horde - or the Alliance," Varian said. "You're smart enough to know that not everyone in the Horde will be amenable to his proposal. He didn't want to lose face going to the trouble of negotiating with his allies only to have me refuse his offer later."

"And you, Father? Are you… amenable?"

The words once again came out a tad sharper than Anduin intended, but Varian made no comment on his tone. In fact, he did not immediately say anything at all. He had not yet given anything of his intent away, though a slight furrow had appeared between his heavy brows as he slowly sipped his whiskey. Anduin knew Varian had been angered by the abrupt end to his honeymoon, despite all protests to the contrary, and as he stared into his father's brooding blue eyes, he began to fear that in this instance, the more bellicose side of Varian's nature might have prevailed.

"You said yes... didn't you?" he prompted. "Father, this is an incredibly important offer from the Horde, if you refused…"

"I said yes," Varian said firmly, holding up a hand to stave off any further argument. "In principle, at least. I've agreed to further negotiations."

" _Really_?"

Although the answer was exactly what Anduin could have hoped for, he couldn't help but to sound surprised - and this time, his father _definitely_ noticed. Varian and Auriana exchanged a look, and he let out a quiet, terse sigh. His gaze then flicked to his whiskey, and the corner of his mouth twitched downwards in a frown. It was in this silence that Anduin finally noticed how stiff and uncomfortable his father appeared, and although he had many more questions, he sensed that now was not the time. Varian did not seem to be in an especially forthcoming mood, for whatever reason, even though it sounded as if the meeting had gone as well as could be expected.

"Er… that is to say…"

"I'm going to go get out of this ridiculous outfit," Varian declared, abruptly striding for the door with his drink still in hand. "Auriana?"

"I'll join you in a minute," she said, briefly touching a hand to his forearm as he passed.

"As you wish," Varian said, shrugging.

Auriana's expression grew contemplative as Varian disappeared in the direction of their bedroom, but it was only once she heard the dull thud of the chamber door closing that she moved to fix a drink of her own. She typically preferred to drink night elven wine, but tonight she opted for a short nip of Gilnean brandy. Much like Varian, however, she seemed to take an inordinate amount of time preparing the drink; turning her back on Anduin without so much as a glance in his direction. Strangely, her shoulders also became noticeably rigid as she poured, and the air in the room grew thick with a palpable tension.

"Ah… Auri… are you alright?" Anduin asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of Varian's abrupt departure, nor Auriana's sudden, unexpected coolness. She was not an especially talkative person, admittedly, but it had been a long time since she had been so plainly _silent_ with him, and he sensed that something was bothering her.

"Hmm?"

She turned back around, glass in hand, and leaned back up against the bar with her legs outstretched.

"You seem… quiet," Anduin observed.

A faint smile flickered across Auriana's face, and she raised her eyebrows.

"I'm always quiet," she countered.

"True," he conceded, "Though this is… a different kind of quiet. Something on your mind?"

Auriana nodded, but whatever answer she had originally intended to give him, she appeared to change her mind at the last minute.

"Anduin… I… it's been a long day," she said finally, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I'm just… tired."

Although they were now officially a family, Anduin wasn't always sure where they stood with one another. He cared for Auriana a great deal, but he was still very concerned about upsetting her by saying the wrong thing - and he strongly suspected that she felt the same. He desperately wanted her to feel as if she could be open with him, but outside of a few very specific life or death situations, their conversations tended to be casual or lighthearted in nature. It was something Anduin hoped would change over time, but that didn't necessarily solve his immediate problem.

"I'm sorry," he said, frowning in sympathy, "But at least you were successful? Father agreed to negotiate with the Horde… didn't he?"

Anduin hoped changing the topic of conversation might prompt Auriana to speak her mind, though he was also keen to learn more about what had transpired down in Booty Bay. While he knew that initial negotiations were a far cry from successfully hosting an interfactional Tournament, it was still somewhat difficult to believe that Varian had agreed to taking the first step at all.

"Yes. He did."

Auriana suddenly stood up straighter, and looked back at Anduin askance. She bit her lip, and he once again got the sense that she was warring with something inside herself, as if she wasn't quite sure whether she should give her thoughts voice.

"Auri…? Whatever it is, you can tell me," Anduin insisted, trying his best to sound open and inviting.

For a second, she looked away, but after a few more moments of indecision, she spoke.

"You… you ought to give him more credit, you know," she said quietly.

Her tone was light, but there was a clear hint of reproach gleaming in her eyes as she stared at him from across the room.

"I… what's that supposed to mean?" Anduin asked, genuinely taken aback.

Although Auriana was known to have a legendary temper, she had never so much as raised her voice to Anduin, and he found it strange to be on the receiving end of her disapproval. Even now, she was not precisely _angry_ , but it was clear that she was not pleased, either.

"You don't trust him to make the right choices," she observed, gesturing to the doorway through which Varian had disappeared. "It isn't easy, what he does, being High King. If he makes the wrong call, if he trusts the wrong person… thousands die."

Once again, there was no anger or vitriol in her voice, only a quiet note of disappointment that Anduin found infinitely more troublesome.

"I know that!" he protested. "And I trust him, of course I do."

"Are you sure?"

It was a simple enough question, but one that Anduin wasn't quite sure he could answer. He loved his father more than anyone in the world, and respected him immensely, but he wondered if Auriana's observation wasn't at least partially true. He _had_ doubted Varian's intentions regarding the Horde in the past, and had hardly been shy about expressing his opinion on the matter. Even tonight, Anduin belatedly realised, he had assumed the worst of his father before Varian had even had a chance to open his mouth. He had always meant well, of course, but for perhaps the first time in his life, he began to wonder whether his criticisms had more of an effect on his father than he had ever thought.

"I know you were king while Varian was missing," Auriana added, "But as I understand it, Bolvar Fordragon was ultimately responsible for running the kingdom. You've never really been in a position where you've had to order men to their deaths. You've never had to make a choice that might leave the entire world in chaos."

Anduin opened his mouth to argue - and immediately closed it again as an uncomfortable sinking feeling arose in his stomach. As much as he might have found it difficult to admit - and as much as he hated the fact that he'd never before considered the point - Auriana was _right_. Anduin had been forced by circumstance to shoulder many responsibilities from a young age, but in truth he had never really made a decision without someone looking over his shoulder. Whether it had been Bolvar, Velen, Jaina, Genn, or Varian himself, he had always had someone older and more experienced guiding his actions, and someone to whom he could turn to for help and support should he fail.

Varian had no one.

It was then that Anduin realised that perhaps the _real_ reason his father had left the study so abruptly was that he had been hurt by Anduin's doubt, and his chest tightened with fresh guilt in response. Varian would never say as much, of course, but on closer reflection, his quiet frowns and swift departure now made a great deal more sense.

"You're worried about him," Anduin observed, biting back the instinctive protest that still lingered on the tip of his tongue.

Auriana took a bracing sip of her drink, and nodded. She shared Varian's vigilant and defensive nature, and Anduin knew she would do anything within her power to protect him - even, apparently, from Anduin himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be harsh on you," she said, more gently. "I just… I don't think I've ever truly appreciated how hard it must be, being him. Not really, not until tonight. I saw it in Vol'jin, too; how much the mantle of leadership weighed on both of them."

She paused, and shook a hand through the lengths of her dark hair.

"Varian thanked me for being with him. He was so grateful not to find himself making that kind of decision alone. Again. He wants peace, I think, but… we've fought with the Horde for such a long time. If something goes awry, if people get hurt… that's on him."

She averted her gaze, and touched a hand to her chest as if the mere thought of Varian's sadness and loneliness was physically painful to her. It was a small movement, but the emotion behind it was palpable, and Anduin found himself hoping that he would one day be lucky enough to find someone who loved him even half as much as Auriana clearly loved his father.

"You… you're right," he admitted, frowning. "I know I… I push him, sometimes - a lot of the time, really, if I'm being honest… And it's only because I want so _badly_ for things to be better - but… that doesn't necessarily make it fair. It's a lot easier to demand something when you're not the one who has to live with the consequences."

He gave Auriana a rueful shrug.

"The older I get, the more I realise that the world is not nearly as simple as I might like it to be," he murmured.

"Annoying, isn't it?" she agreed, screwing up her nose in an exaggerated expression of resignation.

" _Very_."

Auriana's features relaxed into a tentative smile, and some of the tension in her shoulders released as she took a sip of her drink.

"Anduin… I really didn't mean to make you feel poorly," she said shyly. "I just don't want him to feel any more pressure than he already does."

"I know. And I'm glad you said something," Anduin said sincerely. "I can be a bit single-minded sometimes."

"I wonder where you get that from," she chuckled, nodding towards Varian's chambers.

Anduin smiled briefly in acknowledgment, but the expression was short lived. He _was_ pleased that Auriana had spoken her mind, though his concern over her awkwardness now shifted to concern over his father. He doubted Varian would appreciate an apology - it would seem too much like coddling - but he silently resolved to be more aware of the difficulties his father faced as High King in future. After all, Anduin himself had barely been in charge of the kingdom for a week before he had begun to feel overwhelmed, even with Genn's support, and he vaguely wondered why he had never considered that his father might feel the same. Anduin supposed it was because he sometimes struggled to see his father as anything less than the indomitable _Varian Wrynn_ , a King with an almost mythical sense of confidence and command… and not as a human man with as many fears and doubts as anyone else...

"Is something wrong?" Auriana asked suddenly, her quiet voice breaking into Anduin's reverie. "Something on my face?"

She touched a hand to her nose, and tilted her head to the side with a small smile.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're staring."

Anduin had not been looking at Auriana _specifically_ so much as he had been gazing blankly off into the distance as he reflected on his father, but from her perspective it must have appeared as if he were staring directly at her thighs.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," he mumbled distractedly. "Just… your pants are _very_ tight."

It was the first thing that popped into Anduin's head, though he realised far to late exactly how his words must have sounded to Auriana. He immediately blushed beet red from the tip of his nose to the roots of his hair, and his throat went dry as he desperately tried to think of a way to explain himself. His comment had simply been an idle observation, not a criticism - or _worse_ , an attempt to flatter or woo her - but he understood how it could be construed as something _very_ different.

"Anduin…?"

If he had thought things had been awkward between them before, it was nothing compared to how he felt _now_.

"No! Sorry, I'm so sorry, that's not what I meant!" he gasped hurriedly, leaping to his feet. "You're not… I wasn't looking at you like… like _that…_ I was just… I…"

Anduin felt his ears burn hot, and he suddenly very much wished that he had a mage's ability to disappear in an instant. Auriana's face was cool and expressionless as she stared back at him, and the entire room around him seemed to swell with another cloying, awkward silence.

Why _did you have to open your_ mouth _?_ He groaned inwardly.

"I'm not… you _know_ I'm not... that is to say, you're very pretty, of course," he fumbled, desperately trying to find the words that might make things better. "I didn't mean to imply that you're not, just that I'm… not… you know?"

Auriana raised a skeptical eyebrow, and folded her arms across her chest as she watched Anduin struggle and stutter. She was a shy person at heart, as he had already witnessed only moments ago, and Anduin began to fear that his distracted _faux pas_ may have already ruined their familial relationship barely a week after it had begun.

"I mean, we're not actually _related_ , so it isn't weird in _that_ sense, even if I _were_ looking… which I wasn't! Just... I swear to you, Auri, I wasn't…" he tried, wishing she would say _something_ instead of staring at him in stony-faced silence. "Father would kill me if I were, right? Though that's not what would stop me from looking, of course - which I wasn't, to be clear - I just meant that it's not that he's the only thing stopping me, it's me, too, because that would be… weird… though not quite _related_ weird, and… hold on a minute, you're not actually upset, are you? You're teasing me?"

Auriana was doing a very convincing job of looking affronted, but at some point in his rambling Anduin had at last noticed the twinkle in her eyes, and the way she couldn't quite hide the smile pulling at the very corner of her lips.

"Perhaps," she admitted, eyeing him slyly over the rim of her glass.

"Oh, you're _mean_ ," Anduin huffed.

"And _you_ make it far too easy," she countered, flashing him a decidedly wicked grin.

It was an unusually mischievous expression, and one that Anduin had only seen directed his way upon a handful of occasions. Auriana was rarely playful around anyone other than Varian, and Anduin was pleased to realise that even if he may have erred tonight when it came to his father, he had at least made some further progress with _her_.

Or at least, he _would_ be pleased, whenever he managed to stop blushing.

"Uh… can we both agree not to tell Father about this? _Please?_ " he asked weakly.

Auriana's smile widened, but it appeared she had no intention of heeding his plea. She gave him no answer save for an enigmatic shrug as she swept past him to the door, only to abruptly pause with one hand resting on the oak frame. She glanced back at him over one slender shoulder, and her impish expression faded into something more serious.

"Anduin… all joking aside… are we alright?" she asked.

"Of course," he said quickly. "I never want you to feel as if you can't talk to me - even if it's a difficult conversation. And I really _wasn't_ staring, I swear…"

" _Sure_ you weren't," she teased softly, flashing him one last warm smile as she turned to leave. "Goodnight, Anduin."

The study door made a soft _thump_ as it closed behind her, and Anduin closed his eyes as he flopped back down on the chaise with the fire of his blush still burning in his cheeks.

"Goodnight, Auri," he murmured.

 _Dammit._


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Anduin**

Despite the success of the mission to Booty Bay, nearly two weeks went by before Varian received formal word from Warchief Vol'jin, explaining his terms and inviting them to meet for formal negotiations. Vol'jin's missive was a lengthy document that carefully laid out his reasons for approaching the Alliance, including a number of suggestions for Tournament operations and safety measures. It was not an obsequious missive, but nor was it demanding; respectful, but not submissive. In short, it was a masterfully written document, and Anduin could tell that even his father had been reluctantly impressed.

Unfortunately, not all the other leaders of the Alliance were so ready to agree. Velen, Moira, Aysa Cloudsinger and Gelbin Mekkatorque were all quick to offer their support, albeit with varying degrees of enthusiasm - though Tyrande Whisperwind had been the most reluctant of all. While ultimately a pragmatic leader, she was also skeptical and headstrong, and it seemed that the Horde incursions into Ashenvale under Garrosh Hellscream's leadership had left lasting scars. Still, she was hardly without wisdom, nor did she lack the ability to see another's point of view, and after several lengthy discussions with Varian and her beloved Malfurion, she had eventually acquiesced. Her support had been highly conditional on the implementation of a number of strict safety restrictions, and she had strongly cautioned Varian against overconfidence, but in the end she had given her permission for the night elves to participate in the Tournament.

Tyrande's reticence, however, was nothing compared to the ire of Genn Greymane. Anduin understood that the Gilean King's anger was directed more towards Sylvanas Windrunner _personally,_ rather than towards the Horde as a whole, but that did not make him any less vehemently opposed to Vol'jin's idea. Admittedly, Anduin did not know what it felt like to even have a child, much less _lose_ one, but he had hoped that, in time, cooler heads would prevail.

Unfortunately, when it came to Genn and his father, cooler heads tended to be the exception rather than the rule.

Anduin had walked in on them late one afternoon, almost a week after Vol'jin had sent his formal letter, as they were loudly arguing the point in Varian's study. More accurately, he had first heard raised voices echoing towards him down the corridor outside of Varian's rooms, where had found two very uncomfortable royal elites standing guard over the outer doors. Neither Varian nor Genn were especially _quiet_ people, and the furious intent of their conversation was obvious to anyone within a hundred yards, even if the words themselves were muffled by the thick stone walls of the Keep.

For a moment, Anduin seriously considered turning around and heading back the way he'd came, but he decided instead to brave the storm raging in his father's study. He slipped past the two guards with an apologetic grimace, and took a deep breath to steady himself as he stepped over the threshold into Varian's inner chambers.

A great wave of tension rolled over Anduin as he entered the room, making his skin prickle and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Varian was behind his paper-strewn desk, though he was standing rather than sitting comfortably in his chair. His enormous hands were clenched into fists where they rested against the wood, and his neck and ears were flushed red with evident displeasure. Genn stood on the other side of the desk, dominating the centre of the room as he stared Varian down. He was not in his worgen form, though Anduin could see echoes of the wolf in his hunched posture and ferocious snarl. Auriana, too, was present; standing off to one side with a wary expression as she watched Varian and Genn argue back and forth. Unlike the two kings, she did not appear visibly irate, though Anduin could see the slightest hint of frown lines pulling at the corners of her lips and eyes.

No one even so much as acknowledged Anduin's presence as he slipped into the room, and in truth, he wasn't exactly in a hurry to draw attention to himself. Instead, he took up a discreet position on the wall near Auriana, and silently folded his arms across his chest. The argument had clearly been going on for some time, and it seemed that neither party was willing to give an inch.

"Our troops worked with the Horde in Draenor, an action _you_ supported," Varian was saying, punctuating the word 'you' with a sharp rap of his knuckles against his desk.

"Don't be obtuse, Varian! Agreeing to work with the Horde out of wartime necessity is a far cry from cosying up to them at a Tournament. It is not a necessary action, and you know it," Genn countered, grinding out the words from between clenched teeth.

"Not as immediate, perhaps, but I _do_ believe it to be necessary to secure a lasting future for the Alliance. We cannot fight forever, and I won't have an endless cycle of war be my legacy to this world."

Varian ran a hand through his already tousled hair, and for a brief second he looked very tired and drawn, before his mask of kingship snapped back into place once more. It was clear that his decision to support Vol'jin was weighing on him heavily, though Anduin was proud of the way he had worked to honour his commitment thus far.

"Genn…" Anduin offered tentatively, hoping he would not come to regret speaking up, "You know how sorry I am about Liam, but there are many other sons and daughters who will suffer and die if we do not act to preserve the peace."

Genn let out a quiet snarl at the mention of his fallen son's name, though he did not spare so much as a glance in Anduin's direction. He was far too clever not to understand the wisdom in Varian's argument, but he was also evidently struggling to act on reason through the cloud of his visceral grief and anger. His shoulders were all but shaking, and he glared at Varian with a burning intensity that Anduin could feel even from ten feet across the room.

"She took my _son_ , Varian! You have no idea how that feels; none! I never thought I'd see the day when _you_ rolled over and showed your belly to the Horde!"

Genn clearly regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but the damage had been done. Varian's neck flushed an unbecoming shade of blotchy purple, and his lips drew into a thin, stony line. Beside him, Anduin heard Auriana inhaled sharply, and he looked down to see her fingers twitching in anticipation, as if she were preparing to restrain Varian by magical force. Or, he thought worriedly, as if she intended to punish Genn for his comments. Auriana was as fiercely protective of Varian as he was of her, and while he wasn't proud of it, Anduin couldn't help but to wonder how far she would go to defend his father from a slight…

The tension in the room was so thick that Anduin almost found it hard to breathe. For a moment, no one moved; the four of them each frozen in place as surely as if they were carved from stone, until Varian let out a slow, whistling sigh from between gritted teeth. With great effort, he unclenched his fists, and when he spoke, his voice was almost unnaturally calm.

"You know I am the very last person on Azeroth who would back down from a fight, Genn, much less 'roll over' for the Horde."

He glanced across at Auriana, who gave him a small, encouraging nod.

"However. Endless bloodshed is not the only way. It can't be."

"Bah! Do you trust them, Varian?" Genn growled, his thick grey brows drawing together in a cynical scowl. "Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you honestly _trust_ them?"

"You're not wrong, Genn," Varian said heavily. "But neither is Anduin. There are lives and futures at stake; lives that _I_ am ultimately responsible for."

He cracked his knuckles, and stared pensively at one of the bright blue Alliance banners that adorned his study walls.

"We have never been this close to securing a lasting peace agreement with the Horde. I… if there were ever a time to take a chance, I believe this is it. I won't force you or your people to participate, but I would ask you to consider the matter very seriously before refusing me. You must think as a king, not as man."

"I was a king years before you could even walk, Varian, and you would do well to remember as much!" Genn snapped.

"Then act like one."

Varian's voice was far quieter than Genn's harsh growl, though no less dangerous for it. His eyes glittered with warning, and Anduin got the distinct feeling he was standing between two alpha wolves as they stared each other down.

For a long time, neither man moved so much as a single muscle, though somewhat surprisingly, it was Varian who first looked away. His burning gaze found Anduin, and a strange, shadowed expression flickered across his careworn face.

"For our children," he murmured softly. "For the lives they _could_ have."

Genn had fallen silent then, gnashing his teeth in irritation as words finally failed him, before he stomped away without another word.

"Genn…"

Varian moved around his desk, as if to follow, but the Gilnean King was already gone. The oak door slammed shut behind him, and the room was once again plunged into a tense, uncomfortable silence that was somehow worse than the yelling.

"Let me talk to him," Auriana said finally, pushing off the wall and making her way over to the door.

"And what do you intend to say, exactly?"

Varian's voice came out flat and harsh, likely more so than he had intended, and for the briefest of seconds, Auriana's face fell. She remained composed, however, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin so that she might better look him in the eye.

"Varian," she said evenly, "You're always telling me that you chose me as your queen because believe in me, and my abilities as a ruler. Perhaps you could have a little faith."

Varian stared at her for a good long while, his expression stern and unreadable, before giving his permission with a weary nod of his head. For a split second, he also looked as if he wanted to say something more, but Auriana turned away before he could, and the moment vanished in the swirl of her skirts as she strode toward the door.

"Father…?"

Anduin took a tentative step towards Varian's desk, but his father was in a world of his own. He had turned his attention firmly upon an ornate letter opener, twisting it back and forth between his weathered fingers with an expression of grim resignation. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to stab it into the thick wood of his desk, but instead settled for rolling it across his knuckles with a speed and dexterity that Anduin couldn't help but to admire.

"I… what Genn said… it wasn't fair," he ventured slowly, hating the silence. "He spoke out of anger, I'm sure he didn't mean it…"

"I'm aware," Varian said shortly.

He allowed the letter opener to tumble from his fingers, and slumped back in his chair. As fearsome as Varian's reputation was, Anduin knew that he didn't relish being argumentative, and even less so when such an argument involved someone he considered a close friend.

"I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing."

The words were so quiet that Anduin almost missed them, and he realised that was probably Varian's intent. It was a rare thing to see his father openly display self doubt; so rare in fact that Anduin wasn't at all sure what he should do. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, wondering if he should just leave Varian alone to his brooding, but deciding instead to offer his thoughts.

"I… I believe you are," he said hesitantly. "This is the best opportunity we've ever had to secure a lasting peace with the Horde. It's what is right for the Alliance, and for Azeroth as a whole."

Varian leaned back further in his chair, and cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

"How can you be so sure?"

Anduin considered the question seriously, though he wasn't entirely sure he could answer. He couldn't always put it into words, but sometimes he just _knew_ things, in the way that he knew that the sky was blue or that Stormwind Keep was made of stone. What he could do, however, was offer his father some comfort, and hopefully strengthen his resolve.

He smiled.

"Well, it's as Auriana said," he murmured, his voice quiet but his conviction strong. "Sometimes you just need to have a little faith."

* * *

Whatever Auriana had said to Genn that afternoon, it seemed to have worked. She had refused to disclose the details of the conversation to either Anduin _or_ Varian, implying only that some very private things had been discussed, but in the end Genn had begrudgingly agreed to support the Tournament on behalf of the worgen. He refused to have anything to do with Sylvanas, of course, which was entirely understandable, though he had agreed to remain civil so long as the Horde did the same. It wasn't exactly an _enthusiastic_ endorsement of Vol'jin's plan, but it was at least enough for Varian to proceed with further with negotiations.

To that end, he and Vol'jin had arranged for a formal meeting at the Temple of the White Tiger in Pandaria, where they could discuss the specific details of the Tournament on neutral ground. It had been decided that Vol'jin, Baine Bloodhoof, and Lor'themar Theron would represent the Horde during negotiations, while Varian, Velen, and Moira would represent the Alliance. Some had argued for the inclusion of _all_ the faction leaders during the discussions, but given the sensitivity of the matter at hand, it was decided that only some of the more moderate temperaments should attend.

Anduin and Auriana had also been specially invited at Vol'jin's behest; an invitation that he, at least, had been very eager to accept. He had argued for peace between the Alliance and the Horde for so long, and he was thrilled to see that others were at long last coming around to his way of thinking. While he trusted his father and the others to conduct the negotiations on behalf of the Alliance, it was very important to him that he was present at the beginning of what he hoped would be a long and lasting era of peace on Azeroth.

He was also eager to see his friend Baine in person for the first time since Garrosh Hellscream's trial, though Varian had initially refused to allow Anduin to join them. While he had agreed to meet Vol'jin in good faith, he was still suspicious of the Horde's intentions, and was as reluctant as ever to expose Anduin to any potential danger.

Fortunately, both Velen and Auriana had intervened on Anduin's behalf, which is how he found himself walking through the shadowed halls of the Temple surrounded by half a dozen guards. Ahead of him, Varian strode at the head of the Alliance contingent with Auriana at his side, the sharp clack of his boots echoing off the walls as he set a swift and determined pace.

He wore his idiosyncratic armour, naturally, while Auriana had selected a spectacular brocade dress of blue and gold. It was far grander than the kind of dresses she typically preferred to wear at home in the Keep, though well suited to the task at hand. Today would mark her first major diplomatic appearance as the Queen of Stormwind, and Anduin knew she was eager to impress.

As they walked, Anduin's attention was drawn to the dozens of candles that lined the walls, and the way the flickering light reflected off the Temple's shining statuary. He had missed being in Pandaria, and was glad to have had the opportunity to return. Previously, such a meeting might have been held in Dalaran, but after the Purge and the incident with the Divine Bell, Pandaria remained one of the few places on Azeroth where the Horde and the Alliance could meet on neutral ground. Taran Zhu of the Shado Pan had been somewhat reluctant to allow the two factions back in the Temple, fearing that such a meeting would dissolve into arguments or even violence, but had relented upon urging from the great White Tiger Celestial, Xuen.

Anduin noted the presence of both Taran Zhu and Xuen as he entered the meeting chamber in his father's wake, along with a number of Shado Pan guards lining the walls. The elite Pandaren fighters appeared calm and relaxed where they stood, though Anduin knew from experience that they were ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. He hoped they wouldn't be needed, of course, but it was probably for the best that there was a neutral party capable of intervening in the event that things took a turn for the worst.

The Horde were already seated on one side of a large wooden table that dominated the centre of the room, though they all rose to their feet as the Alliance contingent arrived. From what Anduin could see, it seemed that Varian and Auriana were not the only ones who had dressed to impress. Lor'themar Theron was resplendent in traditional red and gold armour, his white-blonde hair coiffed to an immaculate shine, while Baine was dressed similarly in the formal ceremonial garb of his own people. Feathers and trinkets adorned his long, tapering horns, and he carried upon his back two intricately carved totems that were almost as large as Auriana was tall.

Vol'jin stood in place between them, and while he lacked Baine's imposing physical bulk or Lor'themar's carefully crafted splendour, it was clear that _he_ easily held the balance of power amongst the Horde. He was dressed far more simply than either of his compatriots, adorned with only a few fetishes and stripes of warpaint for effect, but his narrowed eyes fairly gleamed with intelligence as they raked over Varian from head to toe.

"Greetings, Ya Majesty," he said seriously, his deep voice echoing off the cavernous Temple walls. "Da Horde are pleased dat ya be willing ta talk."

"And the Alliance thanks you for the invitation," Varian replied.

The words came out little stiff, Anduin noted, though Varian's body language remained open as he waved his hand and invited the Horde delegates to sit. He then pulled out seats for both Auriana and Moira, before taking his own place in the very centre of the Alliance side of the table.

"I trust ya remember High Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof and Regent Lord Lor'themar Theron?" Vol'jin said smoothly, gesturing to each of his allies in turn.

"Of course. And you know Prophet Velen, and Moira Thaurissan, Queen-Regent of Ironforge. You've met my son, Anduin - and this is my wife, Auriana."

There were many nods and quiet sounds of acknowledgement around the table, though it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent of tension in the room. It had been a long time since the leadership of the Alliance and the Horde had been assembled in one place, and such meetings had ended badly more often than not. A great shroud of history and memory hung over all of them, and Anduin hoped it would not prove to be impermeable.

"It is good to see you again, Prince Anduin," Baine rumbled, breaking him out of his reverie. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Anduin said brightly. "It's been an exciting time for my family."

He glanced across at Auriana, and gave her a warming smile. She was sitting so straight-backed that she almost looked carved from stone, and he hoped that a small kindness might help to set her more at ease.

"So I've heard. Please accept the congratulations of my people, Majesties," Baine said, inclining his head towards Varian in a gesture of approval and respect.

"Thank you, High Chieftain."

Varian didn't smile, precisely, but there _was_ genuine sincerity in his voice as he accepted Baine's felicitations.

 _Small steps,_ Anduin reminded himself.

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you at last, my lady," Lor'themar intoned, staring at Auriana with great interest. "Aethas Sunreaver tells me you're something of a magical prodigy."

Auriana's eyes widened in surprise, and from the look on her face, Anduin doubted that she had ever expected to find herself the subject of Horde gossip. Of course, their curiosity _did_ make sense. From the Horde's perspective, she had all but appeared overnight; one day a frontline commander, and the next the wife of the most powerful man in the Alliance. Anduin was not surprised to learn that the Horde had done their research ahead of the meeting, though he hoped that the Horde's evident interest would not add _too_ much to Auriana's nerves.

"I… I wouldn't have thought he remembered me. Our paths in Dalaran crossed only briefly, and I was… very young," she said slowly, smoothing the skirts of her magnificent dress across her lap. "Certainly not of any particular interest to an Archmage."

"Oh, quite the opposite. He recalled your potential to be quite extraordinary - even by the standards of _my_ people."

Blood elves had a natural affinity for magic, and while Lor'themar was not a mage himself, it was clear that he could sense at least _something_ of Auriana's remarkable capacity. His gaze was sharp, almost hungry, and he seemed to be looking _through_ her to something that no one else could see.

"Archmage Sunreaver is too kind," she murmured.

"Or perhaps not kind enough..."

Auriana did not cower beneath the strength of the Regent Lord's interested stare, but Anduin could see a slight tremble in her fingers where they rested beneath the table. She was not the type of person who enjoyed being the centre of attention, though as Queen, such a thing was rather unavoidable. The citizens of Stormwind and the Alliance had certainly been eager to scrutinise her every action, and it seemed that the Horde were no different.

Fortunately, Anduin was not the only one who had noticed Auriana's discomfort, and he gave silent thanks to Moira as she skillfully redirected the conversation to more pressing issues.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, perhaps we ought ta get down ta business?" she suggested, fixing Vol'jin with a smile that was at once both matronly and slightly warning.

"Agreed," he said, spreading his arms in a gesture of invitation. "High King?"

"I'll keep this short, Warchief," Varian proclaimed. "We have discussed your proposal at length, and are inclined to agree with your assessment of current Alliance-Horde relations. We also intend to fully support your efforts to arrange an interfactional Tournament."

His gaze flicked briefly towards Anduin.

"This was a unanimous decision."

"Da Horde are also united behind dis cause," Vol'jin said slowly.

Anduin caught a slight catch in the Warchief's voice that suggested he was somewhat overstating the extent of his people's unanimity - but then again, so was Varian. No doubt there had been just as many objections on the Horde side as there had been amongst the members of the Alliance, though he supposed that all that really mattered in the end was that everyone had come to the table.

"We appreciate the Horde's initiative in proposing this event, and hope that it will come to represent a turning point in relations between us," Velen added smoothly.

The Prophet was not an especially loquacious man, but when he spoke, people listened. He also had a way of talking that set people at ease, and Anduin instantly felt some of the lingering tension in the room lessen.

"If we're all in agreement, then, all that remains is to work out the finer details," Baine declared, with an approving shake of his horns.

He seemed somewhat surprised that the Alliance had come so ready to bargain, though of course he did not have knowledge of the secret meeting between Varian and Vol'jin that had preceded the formal negotiations.

"To that end," Varian said, "We propose the use of the Argent Tournament grounds in Icecrown. The Argent Crusade have kept the existing facilities in good repair, though they will need some time to make them suitable for a large-scale tourney once more."

Pandaria had also been suggested as possible host site for the Tournament, but given that the shadow of Garrosh Hellscream's trial and escape still hung over the Temple, the Alliance had felt it best to select a site of a marginally more successful joint endeavour. Pandaria had also suffered greatly from the conflict between the Alliance and the Horde, and if things were to go poorly, it was probably for the best that it did not happen on Pandaren soil.

"Will Highlord Fordring be amenable to the use of the Argent facilities?" Lor'themar asked.

"We believe so," Varian confirmed. "After all, the first Argent Tournament was held at Tirion's behest. He has long been a strong proponent of a united Azeroth."

His fingers twitched as he spoke, and a faint, brooding scowl flickered across his features. At the time of the first Argent Tournament, Varian had been a rather different man. His two halves had only been recently reintegrated when the Lich King awoke in Northrend, and he had struggled to cope with his rage and pain whilst simultaneously leading his people into battle against an almost impossible foe. He had supported Alliance participation in Tirion's games out of necessity, in order to secure the Argent Crusade's support for the war campaign, but his enmity for the Horde had been on full display for all to see. Ultimately, Tirion's Tournament had proven to be a success - or at the very least, not a failure - but it had not been without conflict.

Of course, that had been a long time ago, and this was a very different Tournament - and a very different Varian. The Horde had long memories, but Anduin hoped that they could see his father for the man he had become, not only the man he had once been.

"With that in mind, we also recommend the inclusion of major neutral factions as observers and referees," Auriana added softly. "The Alliance and the Horde may represent the two largest factions on Azeroth, but we aren't the only groups with a vested interest in breaking the cycle of war."

Vol'jin quirked his head to the side, and champed his tusks in what Anduin assumed to be a gesture of approval.

"A fair point, mon," he said. "Who do ya suggest?"

"Well, Highlord Fordring and his Argents, obviously. The Cenarion Circle, the Earthen Ring, the Shado Pan, and…"

Whatever Auriana had been about to say, she was abruptly cut off by Lor'themar Theron. He had been watching her closely ever since their first exchange, though his interest seemed to have suddenly increased tenfold.

"And the Kirin Tor? Do you consider them neutral, _Archmage_?

The Regent Lord leaned forward as he spoke, and a sudden wave of renewed tension rippled through the room. His lilting tone was light - friendly, almost - but no-one in the room missed the emphasis he put on Auriana's title. It was telling that he referred to her as a mage and not as the Queen of Stormwind, and Anduin understood it to be an oblique way of suggesting that the Kirin Tor were interfering in Alliance politics.

For a moment, he thought his father might react to the allegation in anger, even unstated as it was. Varian's right hand clenched, but instead of unleashing a tirade upon the blood elf leader, he sat back and waited for Auriana to respond. After all, the question _had_ been addressed to her, and it was clear from Lor'themar's expression that he intended for _her_ to answer. Vol'jin, too, remained silent, and Anduin realised that both sides were rather interested in seeing how such a potentially contentious conversation might play out.

"There exists no _formal_ treaty between the Kirin Tor and the Alliance," Auriana said, choosing her words with the utmost care. "Nor any declaration of war between Dalaran and Orgrimmar. Or Silvermoon, for that matter."

"A technicality," Lor'themar countered, waving his hand dismissively. "The lack of any _formal_ agreements did not prevent Jaina Proudmoore from purging my people from Dalaran, nor from pledging the power of the city to the Alliance cause."

Anduin did not know whether Auriana had been in the city at the time of the Purge, nor whether she had personally fought or captured any Sunreavers. He supposed there was a good chance she _had_ been present, though he doubted she would admit as much in front of Lor'themar. The Regent Lord was famously protective of his people, and Anduin was sadly unsurprised to learn that he still harboured a great deal of resentment towards the Kirin Tor.

"Your magi were implicated in the commission of a serious crime while ostensibly on neutral soil," Auriana answered coolly. "If you or Aethas Sunreaver were in her position, could you honestly say you wouldn't have done the same?"

Lor'themar let out a quiet, refined snort, though he seemed reluctantly impressed by her argument. He was perhaps not so blindly loyal that he could not see where the Sunreavers had done wrong, but that did not necessarily mean he was yet willing to forgive Jaina and the Kirin Tor for the expulsion of his people from Dalaran.

"Given that the Horde have _still_ been refused access to the city, we may never know," he said archly.

Auriana's lips drew into a thin line.

"It is not my intention to antagonise you, Lord Regent, nor to apportion blame," she said quietly, her tone surprisingly composed. "We are here to discuss the future, not the past. The Kirin Tor fought alongside both the Alliance and the Horde in Draenor, to the benefit of us all. I know for a fact that the Archmage Khadgar greatly assisted your campaign and saved many blood elf lives. As did I."

Auriana folded her hands on the table, and fixed Lor'themar with a long, even stare. She was not actively channelling her magic, though the pale scars on her arms were still visible where they caught the light. It was a small gesture, but the message was crystal clear.

 _I have shed blood for your_ _people._

"It is not within my power to readmit the Horde to Dalaran," Auriana continued. "However, I would suggest that allowing Kirin Tor participation in this Tournament would go a long way towards improving relations between your people and the Magus Senate."

It was a good answer; one that remained diplomatic, whilst at the same time not shying from the truth. Lor'themar's delicate ears twitched as he listened, and Anduin could have sworn that he looked almost _pleased_ by Auriana's response, though he couldn't be entirely sure. He had been well-trained to detect the subtext hidden beneath the overt words of others, but it was harder to do so when observing an unfamiliar speaker, and one whose cultural tells and expressions differed substantially from his own.

"As you say… _Your Majesty_ ," Lor'themar said finally, leaning back in his chair and blinking for what seemed like the first time in an age.

"If da Kirin Tor wish ta participate, da Horde will welcome dere involvement," Vol'jin added, shooting a calm but warning glance at the Regent-Lord. "As we would welcome any faction on Azeroth who wishes ta attend in good faith."

"In that case, I would be pleased to represent our shared interests in negotiations with the Council of Six," Auriana said.

She tucked her hands back beneath the table, and the entire room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Everyone present may have been well intentioned, but the brief exchange between Auriana and Lor'themar reminded Anduin that all it would take was one wrong word for everything to fall apart. Peace may have been a noble goal - and in his mind, the _only_ goal that really mattered - but that didn't mean it would come easy.

 _Small steps._

Varian coughed.

"Does anyone else have any past grievances they wish to raise? No? Then let us discuss safety measures, shall we…?"

* * *

When the meeting finally ended, many hours later, Anduin was utterly exhausted. He had said very little, preferring instead to observe the way Varian and Vol'jin shaped the discussion, but the effort of constant thought alone was enough to leave him feeling overwhelmed and almost lightheaded. Despite the rocky start, his father had participated in the negotiations with a cool-headed subtlety that Anduin had not expected, but greatly welcomed. Vol'jin, too, had been similarly impressive, demonstrating his skill for nuance and diplomacy time and time again throughout the day. Anduin had learned a great deal from watching the both of them, as well as the reactions of Baine, Lor'themar, Velen, Moira, and Auriana. He was not blind to the undercurrent of mistrust that had pervaded the entire conversation, but he had also seen a genuine desire to do better on both sides, and it gave him great hope for the success of the Tournament in the future.

Varian and Auriana were the first to leave, followed closely by Velen and Moira, though Anduin himself lingered. He had hoped to speak to Baine further, even if only briefly, but the High Chieftain acknowledged him with nothing more than a friendly nod as he turned to follow his Warchief from the negotiation chamber. The Shado Pan observers also soon departed, and in the end, Anduin was left alone with only a handful of royal guards and an empty room for company, which, while beautifully decorated, was not especially interesting.

Realising that his father would also likely be concerned about his whereabouts, Anduin set out with guards in tow to find him. The circular halls of Temple could be confusing to someone not used to Pandaren architecture, but after a few minutes of searching, Anduin eventually located Auriana and his father in a small recess off the main hall, conversing quietly behind a large statue of Xuen. Neither Velen, nor Moira, nor any of Varian's personal guards were anywhere in sight, and Anduin hesitated as he realised that he may have been intruding. Their conversation did not _seem_ to be about anything overly private, though he hovered back awkwardly as he waited for the right moment to announce himself.

"You did well," Varian was saying, his voice warming with pride as he stared down at his new wife.

The difference in their heights was even more obvious when they stood close, and Anduin noted the way his father carefully bent his head so that he might better look Auriana in the eye. There was an unusual softness to his posture, too, a rarely seen gentleness that might otherwise have seemed impossible for such a large man.

"I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest," she replied, shaking her head and staring down at her feet.

The cool competency she had shown when facing the Horde had vanished, and she now looked pale and somewhat queasy. It was strange, Anduin thought, that she could be so fearless when facing down demonic monsters twice her size, and yet she clearly found found sitting at a negotiation table to be utterly nerve-wracking. In contrast, _he_ would have rather been almost anywhere else that in the middle of a pitched battle, but he found political discussion to be rather fascinating.

"I had to keep my hands underneath the table so they wouldn't see the trembling in my fingers," Auriana added softly.

"You were wonderful," Varian assured her. "The Warchief was impressed, I could tell. And your suggestions for some of the magical protections we could use - excellent."

"I was worried I pushed Lor'themar too hard. Then it occured to me that perhaps he was testing me, and he _wanted_ me to push back, and…."

Auriana broke off with a sigh, and pulled distractedly at the neckline of her magnificent dress.

"I much prefer a straight fight to all this… _politicking_."

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" Varian chuckled drily. "We're not here to fight."

He brushed a lock of hair back behind her left ear, and leaned further forward so that he might kiss her. Just before their lips met, however, he cocked his head to one side, and abruptly straightened.

"Anduin," he called, "You needn't lurk in the shadows, you know."

Varian had never taken his eyes off Auriana, and yet somehow he had known that Anduin was somewhere nearby. As a child, Anduin had often made a game of trying to sneak up on his unsuspecting father, but he had been caught red handed every time. He had no idea how Varian did it, either, only that it was a decidedly annoying skill.

"Sorry," he mumbled, stepping forward into the light. "It wasn't my intention to… uh… _lurk_."

"No need to apologise. What did you think?"

Varian took a step back from Auriana, and in a heartbeat he was the towering, hard-faced King of Stormwind once more. Evidently, whatever gentleness he possessed was for her, and her alone.

"You spoke well, Auri," Anduin agreed, echoing Varian's sentiment. "And I think we can consider these negotiations a success. A few rough patches, but overall… very promising."

He smiled hopefully up at his father, but Varian did not return the gesture in kind.

"Don't get too excited just yet," he said warningly. "We have an accord, but seeing this thing through to the end will still take some doing."

"Yes, but at least we're doing _something_ ," Anduin countered fiercely.

Varian was not wrong, but Anduin had glimpsed real progress today, and he refused to allow his enthusiasm to be dampened. He also fully expected his father to argue the point with him, but instead Varian simply titled his head to the side, and studied Anduin with a strange expression. His blue eyes were very bright, and he seemed almost vaguely confused, as if he were seeing his son for the first time.

"We are," he murmured finally, and his voice warmed with what Anduin _thought_ might have been pride. "Now come on. Let's go home."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Auriana**

"I'm not happy about this..."

Jaina didn't need to clarify what 'this' meant. It had been a week since the Alliance and Horde leadership had met to discuss arrangements for the Tournament, and things had been proceeding rapidly ever since. Auriana was used to the physical fatigue of battle, but even commanding Lunarfall had not prepared her for the sheer amount of mental effort that went into being Queen. Planning for the Tournament was an exceptional circumstance, admittedly, but she had scarcely ever found herself so exhausted.

There was no rest to be had, however, as Auriana had been dispatched to speak to the Council of Six on behalf of both the Alliance and the Horde. A formal missive had been sent several days earlier, inviting the Kirin Tor to participate in the Tournament as a neutral entity, and after allowing the Council some time to deliberate, Auriana had come to hear their answer.

It was Jaina herself who greeted Auriana upon her arrival in the Silver Enclave, though she did not appear especially pleased. Nor, Auriana supposed, was Jaina precisely _displeased_ , either, but rather deeply pensive and guarded. Her reaction to the the news of the Tournament was not unexpected, but Auriana hoped that she would be willing to put the pain of her past behind her in the hopes of a brighter future.

Auriana raised a hand to shield her eyes as she and Jaina stepped out of the Enclave and into Dalaran's wide and open streets. Not a few eyes turned in their direction as they began to walk toward the Eventide, though Auriana had grown somewhat more used to attracting attention wherever she went. There were less stares in Dalaran than there were in Stormwind, thankfully, though there were probably few places on Azeroth where the Queen of Stormwind and the Archmage of the Kirin Tor together would not create a stir.

"I _want_ to trust, Auriana," Jaina added. "I _want_ to hope for peace. But if I fear that if I do… I'll lose everything. _Again_."

It was clear that the offer before the Council was weighing heavily on her mind. She had barely paused to offer Auriana a greeting upon her had arrival, and was now walking through the streets so swiftly that Auriana found it a little difficult to keep up.

"I know. Believe me, Jaina, I know."

She sighed.

"I'd be lying if I said I was entirely comfortable with the idea," she ventured cautiously, "But…"

She left the thought unfinished, though she knew that Jaina would take her meaning. The older Archmage looked much as Auriana felt - torn between a sense of duty and her sincere hopes for the future of Azeroth, and the lingering pain and mistrust born in the ashes of Theramore.

"It's… hard," Jaina said slowly.

"The right thing often is," Auriana murmured.

Jaina paused to allow a fruit merchant to pass with his cart, and looked over at Auriana askance.

"Varian truly supports this Tournament?"

"He does," Auriana confirmed. "That's not to say he doesn't have his doubts, but… ultimately he believes it to be the right course of action."

Jaina let out a low, weary chuckle.

"It's strange. Not so long ago, _I_ would have been in Varian's place, advocating for a peace while he stubbornly refused to bend. But then…"

"Theramore."

Auriana didn't have to say more. The word alone was enough.

"Yes. Theramore…" Jaina echoed wistfully.

She had come a long way since Garrosh Hellscream's trial, though Auriana knew from experience that there were some wounds that cut too deeply to ever properly heal. An attack on a stronghold like Stormwind or a militaristic ruler like Varian was one thing, but Hellscream had not chosen to attack a military target. He had come after the home of a woman who had shown nothing but kindness to the Horde; a woman who had worked her whole life for peace. It shouldn't have hurt more that _Jaina_ had borne the worst of his rage, perhaps, but it did.

"I don't want war," she added pensively, "But I'm not quite sure I'm ready for _this_ , either."

"It might not matter whether you're ready. Things have a tendency to change whether we want them to or not."

Auriana sighed, and ran her thumb over the shining mithril wedding band that adorned the third finger of her left hand. It was then that she abruptly realised that Jaina had steered their path not towards the Violet Citadel, but rather in the opposite direction.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asked, abruptly changing the topic. "The entrance to the Council chambers is that way."

"I have delayed the meeting by a half hour. I had something I wanted to show you first," Jaina explained.

"Oh?"

"We've found the culprit responsible for stealing the magebane. I thought you might like to speak to her."

" _What_?"

A sudden heat flooded Auriana's chest as she remembered the sicking sensation of the magebane in her veins, and the sheer horror of feeling her powers slowly leeching away. She could handle assassins, and liars, and conspirators, but she hated and feared losing her magic above almost anything else.

"She's been imprisoned the Violet Hold."

"Why didn't you send for me?" Auriana asked, a faint note of accusation echoing in her tone.

It took all of her self control not to simply start sprinting towards the Violet Hold to interrogate the thief, but somehow she managed to keep an even pace as she and Jaina rounded the Eventide and back out onto the wide main street that would bring them around to the mighty magical stronghold.

"We only caught her two days ago, and given that you were already scheduled to visit the city today, I didn't see the point in pulling you away from your duties in Stormwind," Jaina said calmly. "I am sorry our investigations have taken this long, but we had very little evidence to go on. I assure you that we have worked as quickly as possible. Modera was… less than pleased, shall we say… that someone managed to bypass the Council's security, and she has pursued the matter most diligently. The Guardians caught the poor girl making an attempt to leave the city. She must have known they were closing in."

"Girl? She's young?"

Auriana had tried to picture the magebane thief many times, but had never been able to imagine anything more than a nebulous figure shrouded in darkness.

"Nineteen," Jaina clarified. "Elanore Hooper. She was due to take her adept's trials next month."

She shook her head sadly.

"A pity. She was quite talented."

Auriana didn't particularly care whether the girl had the potential to be the next Medivh, but she bit back the barbed retort on her tongue as she and Jaina crossed the bridge that led to the towering gates of the Violet Hold. There were few prisons in the world as formidable as the Hold - though there were few prisons who would ever had to contend with the kind of prisoners held by the Kirin Tor. The Violet Hold had interned everything from dragons, to demon lords and horrors of the void, and Auriana was at least somewhat comforted to know that the magebane thief would never again escape the Kirin Tor's grasp.

Jaina spoke briefly to Lieutenant Sinclari, the Head Guard of the Violet Hold, who quickly directed them to a small cell on the third floor. Threatening shouts and howls followed them as they ascended through the prison, though Auriana was not concerned for their safety. She could feel the layers of intricate spellwork woven into the very fabric of the Hold's architecture; spells of binding and containment - and of instant destruction, should any of the prisoners attempt to make an escape.

The thief's cell was located between those of a sleeping felblood elf and an extremely unimpressed Shivarra. She looked rather out of place by comparison; a lone human in a sea of monsters, though she had still managed to cause plenty of damage. She was slender and gawky, with long, mousy brown hair and a faint dusting of freckles across her cheeks. She was sitting at the back of a small cell when Auriana and Jaina arrived, her knees tucked up to her chest as she flipped idly through the pages of a dog-eared book. She looked healthy and well fed, despite her current predicament, though there was a distinct aura of wretchedness that hung over her shoulders like a shroud.

She started at the sudden presence of the two Archmagi, and carefully placed her book on the ground at her side. She rose to her feet unbidden, though she did not approach the shimmering energy barrier that marked the entrance to her cell. Instead, she hovered warily in the middle of the small space, as if she thought Jaina and Auriana might attack at any moment.

"Elanore Hooper. Do you know who I am?" Auriana asked quietly, without preamble.

"Everyone knows who you are," the girl said promptly, as if surprised that it was even a question worth asking. "You're Auriana Wrynn."

Auriana raised an eyebrow at Jaina.

"News travels fast…"

She turned back to the thief.

"If you know who I am, then you know why I'm here."

The girl nodded, though she could not bring herself to look Auriana in the eye. She clearly had no intention of arguing or denying her guilt, and so Auriana decided to get straight to the point.

"You stole and sold several vials of magebane from the Council's stores. Do you know what it was used for?"

"I… yes. I mean… no… I..."

"It's not a difficult question," Auriana growled, her voice low and flat. "You either know what the magebane was used for, or you don't."

"I… I didn't know at the time I made the sale," Elanore whispered. "But I overheard some of the older mages talking about an attack on the Prince of Stormwind and the High King's Consort… and then I realised what I'd done…"

Auriana's pulse quickened.

"You didn't _know_? You sold the magebane without knowing the identity of your buyer…" she breathed. "I mean, I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, there are plenty of places on Azeroth where you can dispose of dangerous goods without any questions asked..."

The thief nodded a second time, though she declined to elaborate further.

" _Why_?"

"M-my… my family… we're… farmers," Elanore stammered, twisting her fingers in her skirts. "F-from Redridge. I was the first to go to Dalaran. The first to go anywhere, really…"

"I don't see what that has to do with the theft of the magebane…"

"We'd had… a bad year," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "There was a fire, we lost half our herd… we needed money. I needed the money to pay for my apprenticeship… I would have had to leave the city..."

Auriana felt her stomach churn with rage, and she took a deep breath in order to prevent her anger from burning out of control. In a way, she would have preferred if the culprit were someone who hated her or held some kind of personal grudge, rather than someone willing to do so much damage for the sake of _money_.

"The Kirin Tor has provisions for apprentices who are experiencing financial hardship," she snapped. "You could have asked. Or at the very least, you could have stolen something a good deal less volatile! There are other items that would have fetched you a similar price, and would have done a great deal less damage."

Elanore's eyes filled with tears, but Auriana could not have cared less. She had lost her bodyguard in the attack, and had nearly lost _Anduin_ , all because she had been stripped of her ability to fight back. She despised being helpless, and she despised Elanore for the part she had played in the assassination attempt. The girl was a mage, and while she may not have known anything of her buyer's target, she knew full well what kind of damage the magebane could do to a fellow spellcaster - and had sold it anyway.

"I-I panicked. I never dreamed the magebane would be used the way it was. I didn't think…" she sobbed.

"You thought well enough to steal it!" Auriana snarled. "You didn't… magebane only _has_ one use. What did you _think_ would happen? If not me, then it would have hurt someone else!"

"It… I… it was valuable…"

Auriana closed her eyes, and turned away in disgust. While she knew she probably ought to stay and interrogate the girl further, she was far too angry to do so effectively. Her fury had come on faster and hotter than she had expected, but she could hardly afford to lose her temper in the middle of Dalaran. She had a meeting with the Council to attend, and she _would_ calm herself, even if she needed every step between the Violet Hold and the Chamber of Air to do so.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked away, not even pausing to wait for Jaina to follow. More taunts and shouts from the Hold's inmates followed her as she descended to the ground floor, though she did her best to hold her head high and ignore their incessant crowing. The Kirin Tor did not make a habit of imprisoning people - or demons, for that matter - without good cause, and the last thing Auriana needed was to listen to their mocking jibes and taunts. What she needed was to get _out_ , and it was with a great sigh of relief that she finally stepped out of the confines of the prison and back into the crisp morning air.

"Auri…"

Jaina caught up with Auriana just as she crossed the bridge, and reached out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her expression was warm and sympathetic, but Auriana did not want sympathy. She wanted justice.

"What will happen to her?" she asked coldly.

"She face a trial before the Council of Six. She'll be imprisoned, of course, but the length of her sentence will depend on the outcome of the trial. She will also be expelled from the Kirin Tor," Jaina said grimly.

"I can't believe she was so willing to sell out her fellow mages for _money_ ," Auriana growled, shaking her head in disbelief. "She's a _mage_. She had to know what would have happened if the magebane fell into the wrong hands."

Faint lines appeared at the corner of Jaina's eyes, and for a second she looked unusually old and careworn.

"People do strange things when they're desperate."

Auriana snorted dismissively, though beneath her anger she could still acknowledge that Jaina had a point.

"Do you think she was telling the truth? About not knowing the identity of her buyer?" she mused.

"I think she was being truthful, yes. It wouldn't be the first time someone found a Black Market agent skulking around the city," Jaina said, pursing her lips in distaste. "All their transactions are anonymous, so for all intents and purposes it could have been sold to anyone on Azeroth. Lieutenant Sinclari will continue to interrogate her, but I think we've learned all we can."

"I suppose I ought to be grateful that at least there's no more magebane in the world at large."

Auriana looked across at Jaina, and scowled.

" _Right_?"

"All other vials have been accounted for, and have been moved to the most secure part of the Arcane Vault," Jaina assured her.

She looked faintly offended by the question, and Auriana was starkly reminded that Jaina had to be nearly as upset as she. Jaina had not been directly hurt by the magebane, true, but she cared deeply for the Wrynns, and doubtless she would have been furious to discover that the security of her city had been breached a second time.

"I suppose that's something," she sighed, her expression softening.

"You're disappointed," Jaina observed.

For a moment, Auriana considered uttering a denial, but decided there was little point. Jaina was the Archmage of the Kirin Tor, but she was also a friend, and she would not begrudge Auriana her frustration.

"I am. I _had_ hoped she might provide us with more of a lead on the group of assassins who came after me and Anduin," she admitted, "But I'll settle for not being poisoned. _Again_."

A faint smile pulled at Jaina's lips in acknowledgement of Auriana's dark humour, though she still looked troubled as they made their way back towards the Violet Citadel in silence. Auriana was happy to leave Jaina to her thoughts, given that she was more than preoccupied by her own, and neither woman spoke another word until they entered the Kirin Tor's fabled Chamber of Air to meet the rest of the Council of Six.

The Chamber was a uniquely beautiful place, magically enchanted so that it seemed as if the Council and their guests were floating amongst the clouds. There were no chairs or other furniture that might ruin the effect, only smooth lines and curves that seemed as natural as any thunderhead. The Chamber was intended to inspire a sense of grandeur and timelessness, and no matter how frequently Auriana found herself summoned before the Council, it never failed to impress.

Even agitated as Auriana was by her encounter with the thief in the Violet Hold, being in the presence of so much magic also helped to calm her fast-beating heart. She was not entirely relaxed, of course, given that this was her first diplomatic assignment without Varian's steadfast presence at her side, but she was at least _calmer_ by the time Jaina ascended the upper ring to take her place amongst her esteemed colleagues.

"Thank you for coming, Your Majesty," she said, pointedly addressing Auriana by her formal title, "And for bringing this proposal before the Kirin Tor."

The change in her posture was almost imperceptible, but in an instant it was clear that she was now Jaina the Archmage, not Jaina the friend. It was something Auriana was still getting used to, the instant shift between friend and ruler; between warm confidant and inscrutable diplomat. She had seen it in Varian, too, the exact moment he became less her husband and more the High King, and in truth she found it somewhat unnerving. Still, it seemed to be a common enough part of the political game, and Auriana supposed she had little choice but to play.

To that end, she stood as tall as she was able and lifted her chin, and did her best to imitate Jaina's air of regal aloofness.

"Thank you, Archmage. As always, it's a pleasure to be in Dalaran."

"Please also accept the Council's congratulations on your recent nuptials," Vargoth added, nodding towards the ring on Auriana's left hand.

"King Varian and I were both very grateful for the entertaining gift the Kirin Tor provided," she said smoothly, her voice echoing around the Chamber despite the fact that it ostensibly had no walls.

"You seem to have taken to your new duties quite well," Archmage Karlain observed. "Already negotiating a Tournament on behalf of both the Alliance _and_ the Horde."

"The timing was coincidental, I assure you. Though I welcome the opportunity to contribute to a peaceful future for Azeroth at any time."

It was something of a lie. Not that Auriana did not want peace, of course, but rather the timing of Vol'jin's offer left a lot to be desired. If she had her choice, she might still be on her honeymoon with Varian, tangled in the warmth of his arms beneath the perpetual twilight of Darnassus, but she was a Queen, and there was work to be done.

"If peace is indeed possible. We have considered your proposition at length," Jaina interjected, "And while I won't bore you with the details, you must understand that this Tournament presents us with a difficult choice."

"All of us on the Council are supportive of any action that would lead to a peaceful and united Azeroth," Khadgar said slowly.

Auriana did not generally keep up with the Council's internal politics, but it was clear from the sudden tension in the room that not everyone agreed with Jaina's assessment. She had acted unilaterally when expelling the Horde from Dalaran, which, while well within her purview, was not at all a common occurrence. As Archmage, Jaina led the Kirin Tor, but the majority of major decisions were the right and responsibility of the entire Council, not Jaina alone.

"That may be true, Khadgar, but we cannot forget that the Horde were banished from Dalaran for a reason," she countered, a slight note of warning in her voice.

"I understand your position - better than most, I would wager - but attending the Tournament as a neutral entity does not in any way obligate you to readmit the Horde into the city," Auriana said calmly, hoping the Council could not see her nerves.

She had come prepared to refute any objections, but it was another thing entirely to have to do so in front of her colleagues - and friends. It didn't help that the Council were all standing on the upper ring of the Chamber, either, while Auriana stood on the lower, somehow feeling even smaller than she usually did. Six pairs of sharp, clever eyes bored into her own, seemingly without blinking, and she felt a good deal less like a Queen, and more like a wayward apprentice.

"You're quite sure of that?" Jaina asked, her voice clipped.

"The Tournament and the issue of the Horde presence in Dalaran are unrelated," Auriana said firmly. "One does not have to affect the other. Dalaran is a sovereign state, you have a right to enforce your borders as you see fit."

"And the Horde understand this?"

"They do. Your participation in the Tournament is not conditional on whether or not you agree to allow the Horde back into Dalaran. Nor does your participation imply that the Kirin Tor intends to reopen negotiations. While we do hope that the Tournament will pave the way for improved diplomatic relations across Azeroth, it is in itself a discrete event. You have no obligations beyond the Tournament's conclusion, save those that you choose for yourself," Auriana confirmed.

A low muttering broke out across the Council chambers, with Vargoth even going so far as to lean over to whisper something in Ansirem's ear. The Council were well practiced in the art of appearing entirely impassive, and Auriana could not tell whether their collective whisperings were positive, negative, or something in between. Aside from Jaina and Khadgar, she did not really know where each individual member of the Council stood on the matter of the Horde, though it appeared her clarification of the Horde's future intentions had resolved one of their key points of contention.

"I say we put it to a vote," Modera declared finally. "We could stand here debating for an eternity, but we've all read the proposition, and we all know what's at stake."

She looked to Jaina, who gave a single short nod in reply. She looked as if she wanted to say more, perhaps to attempt to prolong or delay the decision, but in the end she chose simply to permit the vote.

"All those in favour of participating in the Alliance-Horde Grand Tournament, as per the terms laid out in the document provided to us by the Queen of Stormwind?"

For a moment, no one moved, before four hands lifted into the air in quick succession. Khadgar, Karlain, Vargoth, and Modera all voted in support of Kirin Tor attendance at the Tournament, while Jaina and Ansirem initially abstained. The decision was one that only needed a simple majority to pass, however, and so four was enough.

"Very well," Jaina said coolly. "The Council's decision is clear, and in the interests of unanimity, let the record reflect that I also vote to support the motion."

She raised her hand in the air, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Ansirem. Auriana internally let out a sigh of relief, though she kept her expression carefully neutral. She understood that the proposition laid before the Kirin Tor put Jaina in something of an awkward position, but she was glad to see that the desire for peace had prevailed. And, somewhat selfishly, she was also glad to know that her first solo diplomatic mission as Queen had not been a _complete_ failure.

"Thank you for your consideration, and for your quick decision," she said. "I will return to Stormwind to inform the High King, though I will no doubt return soon, to assist with preparations."

"We will commence our own internal planning immediately," Jaina agreed quietly.

She may have not wholeheartedly agreed with the decision of her Council, but she was a consummate, dedicated ruler, and if the Kirin Tor had decided to support the Tournament, Auriana was confident she would do whatever was in her power to see it through.

"I trust you are able to open your own portal back to Stormwind, but if you need…"

"I apologise for interrupting, Jaina, but there's one more thing we ought to discuss before Her Majesty departs," Vargoth said, spreading his hands in a gesture of entreaty.

Auriana raised an eyebrow, suddenly wary.

"And that is...?"

"You."

This time, Auriana was not quick enough to hide the brief flash of surprise that crossed her face, and nor was she the only one. Each other member of the Council turned to face Vargoth, and it seemed that they were equally as nonplussed as Auriana herself.

"Me?" she repeated. "What do I have to do with anything?"

Vargoth hesitated for a moment, and ran a hand through his fiery beard with an air of great consideration.

"You are one of our most prominent Archmagi, and now also the Queen of Stormwind. Very much not a neutral party," he said slowly. "Even today, you came here as an emissary of the Alliance, did you not? If we are to attend this Tournament of yours as a neutral entity, and perhaps entertain a full return to neutrality in the future, you cannot continue your work for the Kirin Tor."

" _What_?"

Auriana's stomach fell, and the word escaped her lips before she could stop herself. Although she had been initially reluctant to take on the role of Archmage, she had secretly come to love the challenge of her work with the Kirin Tor, and with a start she realised that she had never even considered that marrying Varian might mean giving up her identity as a mage.

"Auriana is one of our finest Archmages…" Jaina protested, her crystal blue eyes sharp.

"I am not doubting her ability, Jaina, nor the contributions she has made serving the Kirin Tor as one of our enforcers," Vargoth added hurriedly. "But it's a matter of optics. We cannot claim to be a neutral organisation while the wife of the High King of the Alliance occupies a public position of stature within our ranks."

"Surely you've not suggesting we ought to expel her from the order…" Khadgar interjected, his heavy grey brows drawn together in concern.

"Of course not. Queen Auriana has earned her rank. However, I believe it would be best if she were to publicly step back from her duties," Vargoth recommended. "At least for the duration of this Tournament. It is a delicate situation, and I would not have it turn to disaster for the sake of appearances."

"I agree," Karlain said, with a sort of apologetic half-shrug in Auriana's direction.

"As do I, though you ought to understand that this is in no way a condemnation of your skill, Your Majesty," Modera added.

"My fellow Council members, please," Jaina implored. "Surely we can trust Auriana to act in the interests of both her people and the Kirin Tor?"

"Unfortunately, it is not a matter of trust," Vargoth countered.

Jaina opened her mouth to argue further, but Auriana stilled her friend with a small shake of her head. Watching the Council debate was like a slap to the face, but she was not so blind with shock - or rage - that she could not understand Vargoth's position. Somewhat ironically, she had once severed ties with the Kirin Tor of her own volition, in order to fight for the Alliance in Northrend, but that had been long before Auriana had truly embraced her position amongst her colleagues. There was also a notable difference between leaving by choice and leaving by request, and while she knew that this was far from an expulsion from the order, she felt the keen sting of rejection nonetheless.

That said, there was little point in arguing. Auriana was the Queen of Stormwind, now, and it seemed her new crown would always be more important than who she was as a person - no matter how much she may have wished it were otherwise.

"I will of course defer to judgement of the Council on this matter," she said evenly, folding her hands across her stomach to hide their shake.

"Another vote, then?" Modera suggested, raising her hand.

Only Jaina voted nay this time, though Khadgar's vote was given only with the greatest reluctance. Five to one against was a bitter cup to swallow, but Auriana at least took some small comfort in the fact that not a single member of the Council looked especially pleased by having to make such a decision.

"It seems I am outnumbered once again," Jaina said heavily.

She took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.

"Archmage Auriana, you will stand down from any public duties or appearances as a member of the Kirin Tor until such time as the Tournament is concluded, at which time we will reevaluate your position within our ranks. Know that this is not a punishment, or in any way a condemnation of either your character or your abilities."

"As the Council wishes," Auriana said, inclining her head in a gesture of respect. "The Alliance is grateful for your support in this endeavour, and we hope that the Tournament will prove to be the turning point in relations with the Horde that we all hope it will be."

She swept from the Council chambers without another word, ignoring the pitying glances that followed her path. She forced herself to walk as slowly as she was able, so as not to appear petulant, but it was a difficult thing. Rationally, she understood the Council's reasoning, but she was damned if the decision didn't _hurt_. On top of the unexpected shock of confronting the magebane thief and having to stand as Queen on her own for the first time, the entire day's events had her thoroughly off kilter, and she was barely able to attend to the placement of her own feet as she exited the Chamber of Air and descended down into the Citadel proper.

Vaguely, Auriana also wondered if the strength of her hurt had something to do with the turbulence in her life of late. She had not properly exercised her magic in weeks, not since before the wedding, and she felt the dormant power within her like a dull ache. Despite Varian's unwavering support and love, she was still struggling to come to terms with her new life as the Queen of Stormwind, and the Council's resolution had inadvertently made her feel as if she were losing some critical part of herself. She had been a mage as long as she could remember, and a queen for only a few weeks, but in that moment she felt like she was neither; simply a ship adrift in a storm-tossed sea.

Auriana sighed to herself as she reached the bottom of the stairs that led down from the Violet Citadel, and took off in the direction of the Magus Commerce Exchange. She was expected to report back to Stormwind after completing her diplomatic mission, but she didn't feel like returning to her city just yet. She didn't particularly feel like staying in Dalaran, either, but at least here she was free of her guards and some of the weight of the crown.

The wind lifted Auriana's hair as she wandered aimlessly through the city, though she paid it little mind. By this time of day, most of Dalaran's mages and apprentices were now inside, seeing to their work or studies, and the few people on the streets who _did_ appear to recognise her respectfully kept their distance. She did not regret marrying Varian for a second, but she would have been lying if she had said she was not overwhelmed. She had tried to keep her concerns from him as best she could, hoping that the pressure would ease over time as she became more accustomed to her new role. Varian had enough to worry about with the Tournament and the tensions it had stirred within the Alliance, and Auriana was determined to ensure that he would not be distracted by her own petty hurts.

As she strode past one of Dalaran's many manicured lawns, lost in thought, a sudden glimmer of blue-white magic caught her eye. She paused, and was surprised to find that someone had set up a small row of magical training dummies along the edge of the grass. They were partially tucked away behind a wall, almost invisible from the main carriageway, and Auriana idly wondered why they were there. Most training devices were usually set up indoors, in one of Dalaran's many classrooms, though she supposed there was an argument to be made for training young mages outside as well, where they might have to contend with the distractions of wind and rain and outside noise.

The training dummies were enchanted to hover in mid-air, each of their four large, leaf-like blades catching the sunlight as they rotated slowly around a central magical core. Auriana contemplated the devices seriously for a moment, then glanced back over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. Fortunately, she found no curious faces staring back at her from around the curve of the building, and for the first time in a good long while, she suspected she might be properly alone.

Or at the very least, as alone as she could get in a city with a population of thousands.

Auriana slipped out of her heavy cloak, and let it fall rather unceremoniously to the ground beside her. The air in Dalaran was always cold, as a result of the city's altitude, but Auriana was willing to sacrifice a little warmth for the sake of freedom of movement. Admittedly, her silk dress was not ideal for for practicing magic - a little too tight around the bodice and a little too full in the skirt - but for today it would have to do.

She stretched her neck from side to side and cracked her knuckles, her eyes narrowing as she focused in on the middle target. The training dummies in the Stormwind arena were sturdy and well crafted, but they were designed to resist the keen edge of the blade, not magic, and Auriana had found them to be woefully inadequate for her purposes. _These_ contraptions, on the other hand…

Auriana extended her arm, and frost instantly crystallised around her fingertips. Despite lack of use, or perhaps _because_ of it, her magic felt eager and fresh, and she called forth a deadly icy lance with barely so much as a thought. The razor-sharp projectile rocketed toward the target and hit with a satisfying _smack_ ; the impact sending dozens of tiny ice fractals scattering across the surface of the oscillating target blade. Unlike the dummies in the Stormwind arena, however, the magical target itself did not shatter, its core simply flaring brighter blue as it harmlessly absorbed and redistributed the force of Auriana's spell.

 _Good_.

Encouraged, Auriana called on her powers in earnest, alternately weaving bolts of frost, fire, and acane at an ever-increasing rate. It was a considerable challenge to switch between different schools of magic at speed, and she soon found herself sweating even despite the chill. Auriana was not the same mage who had left Azeroth for Draenor, however, and nor was she even the same mage she had been a year ago. She had been rough and untempered - strong, yet unrefined - but she since had grown to become a master mage in full command of her powers, and the rest of the world fell away as she lost herself in the flow of her magic. The Kirin Tor could take her title, and the crown of Stormwind could take over her life, but _nothing_ could take her magic.

Faster and faster, Auriana wove her spells, relishing the feel of the arcane burning through her veins. There were very few people who had ever lived who could have cast at that kind of intensity, but the magic came to her as easy as breathing. It was immensely satisfying listening to the rhythmic hiss of her spells as they flew through the air, and even more so when Auriana realised that the heavily warded and intricately crafted target was beginning to buckle under the weight of her power.

Such targets were designed to resist thousands upon thousands of spell casts - but it wasn't really a fair contest. There were very few things in the world that could resist Auriana when her magic was up, and the fiery wellspring of power in her chest flared even brighter knowing she was so close to victory. Her eyes narrowed, and with a last great burst of effort, she summoned an enormous pyroblast that smashed through the the last of the target's defenses, leaving behind nothing but a charred wreck.

"I am sorry about what happened in the Council chamber."

Lost in the hazy afterglow of her magic, it took a moment for Auriana to realise that she was being addressed, and she whirled in surprise to see Archmage Modera standing on the edge of the lawn. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her greying eyebrows were cocked in an expression of mild intrigue. Auriana was not quite sure how old Modera was, only that she was the longest serving mage on the Council by far. Mages tended to be long lived, assuming they did not fall in battle or succumb to disease, and there was a very good chance that Modera could have been over a century old. It would have been rude to ask, of course, but Auriana was well aware that she was standing before one of the most experienced mages alive.

"Not _too_ sorry, I assume. _You_ voted against me," she pointed out, hastily wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve.

Auriana's fingers twitched, aching to call upon more magic, and it was only with a titanic effort that she managed to resist the siren's call of her power. She had only tapped into the barest sliver of her rage in order to destroy the target, but magic was seductive enough all on its own, and it yearned for more use.

 _Calm_ , she reminded herself. _Breathe_.

"It was the correct course of action," Mordera said sharply. "I do, however, regret the necessity. You are a valuable asset to the Kirin Tor."

Auriana snorted.

"Evidently not valuable enough."

Modera pursed her lips. She was clearly a woman used to being listened to and obeyed, and over the years she had cultivated a distinct aura of intimidation. She was not loud or ostentatious - far from it - but she fairly radiated command, and Auriana vaguely wondered how many years she would have to spend as queen before she could perfect the same flinty-eyed stare.

"Don't play the victim, Auriana, it doesn't suit you," Modera said You're smart enough to know that the Council has little choice if the Kirin Tor are to successfully participate in this Tournament of yours."

Auriana rankled slightly at the accusation that she was being petty - but then, she supposed, she _was_. The training dummy's destruction had at least in part been the result of her pique, as well as her desire to feel like a _real_ Archmage - and it had evidently not gone unnoticed.

"You did this?" Modera asked, nudging one of the still-smouldering target with her foot. "I should have you know I spent eleven _hours_ last week enchanting these to be indestructible."

Auriana followed her line of sight, and shrugged. She hadn't taken the time to study the intricate layers of spellwork that protected the targets before unleashing her frustration, though if Modera had been responsible for the enchantment, the targets must have been well protected indeed.

"Nothing is indestructible," she murmured.

"How did you do it? What spell did you use?"

Modera's sharp eyes narrowed, and she stared down at Auriana the way one might stare at a particularly vexatious mathematical problem. Like many other Archmages of the Kirin Tor, she was very much possessed of a keen academic mind; though her magical interests were well known to rest in the realm of the practical, rather than the theoretical. She was undoubtedly clever, and the power of her stare made Auriana feel as if she were being viewed through a magnifying glass.

"One with lots of fire," she quipped, in a weak attempt to disguise her discomfort.

In truth, she wasn't really _trying_ to be evasive. Just as she had not taken the time to scrutinise the protections that made the targets impervious, she had not taken much care in preparing her own destructive magic. She had acted on instinct, pure and simple, and she doubted she could have explained the intricacies of her spellwork to Modera even if she had tried.

"Ah, _fire_. I never would have guessed," Modera snorted, fighting back a smirk. "Tell me, Auriana, are you always this glib?"

"Only when it's earned."

For a moment, Auriana wondered if she pushed the older Archmage too far, but to her surprise, Modera simply smiled. It was a cat's smile, too, slow and enigmatic, and Auriana couldn't for the life of her have guessed what it might have meant.

"I should have taken an interest in you earlier, you know. You have quite an innate talent for destructive magic."

"You could have asked to take me on as an apprentice when I was younger," Auriana pointed out. "A bit late now."

"I could have, but at the time I suspected you were lazy," Modera said bluntly. "You never had much of a head for book learning, from what I observed of you as a young mage."

She stepped closer, and the intensity of her gaze somehow increased tenfold.

"But now… now I suspect it has less to do with laziness, and more to do with the fact that you're very much a creature of instinct."

It was then that Auriana realised that Modera's expression was more curious than critical, and that perhaps she should not be quite so guarded.

"Jaina made a similar observation once," she admitted. "Though I'll have you know I've done plenty of 'book learning' since I was made Archmage."

"Still, it doesn't come naturally to you, does it?"

She gestured to one of the few training targets that Auriana had left standing.

"Destroy it."

Auriana raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to 'eleven hours of enchanting work'?"

"Don't be difficult, Auriana," Modera sighed.

"I believe the correct form of address is 'Your Majesty'," Auriana retorted, quick as a whip.

"As you wish. Don't be difficult, _Your Majesty_."

Auriana couldn't help but laugh at that, and she felt some of the pent-up tension in her shoulders loosen. There were others who would have found Modera's banter impertinent, but Auriana found it rather refreshing. The older Archmage seemed genuinely interested in her abilities, for whatever reason, and Auriana was more than happy to indulge her request with another spectacular pyroblast.

"Hmm. It seems that you destabilised the natural variation in the essence flux holding the target together in order to make it destroy itself," Modera observed. "Clever, I wouldn't have thought of that. What I can't figure out, however, is how you compensated for the drop in the aetheric current long enough to prevent the spell from blowing up in your own face."

"Honestly, I'm not sure how I did it, either. I can't always put it into words," Auriana sighed. "I... see the magic, and I... unmake it."

She waved her hand vaguely through the air, and shrugged. It was not an especially illuminating answer, but Modera did not seem displeased. If anything, she actually looked even _more_ interested, her expression calculating and her stern gaze somehow even sharper.

"I know the Council has asked you to step down from your formal duties as an Archmage, but what would you say to a few private lessons with me?" she suggested.

"As your apprentice?" Auriana scoffed, only half-joking.

"As my colleague and my equal," Modera said seriously. "You've extraordinary talent, but there's still a few tricks this old girl could teach you."

It was a very generous offer, and Auriana was well aware that there were dozens of apprentices in the city who would have given their right arms for such an opportunity - and probably a fair few of the senior mages, as well. Coming so soon on the back of the Council meeting, however, the offer raised Auriana's suspicions, and her initial instinct was to decline. She did not want Modera's pity - or anyone else's, for that matter.

"Why me?" she pressed. "Does the Council intend for you to offer your tuition as a consolation prize?"

The words came out with more bitterness than Auriana had perhaps intended, but Modera did not allow herself to be baited.

"It has nothing to do with the Council, and everything to do with you," she said evenly. "We would need to be discreet, of course, but I'm sure that is not beyond you. What is more important is that you do not forget who you are. You were a mage long before you were a queen, and you would be doing both yourself _and_ Azeroth a disservice if you were to forget that fact."

She picked up a shard from one of the destroyed targets, and thrust it towards Auriana with a firm but surprisingly understanding expression. The shard was stained black from the fire, and the edge was sheared as cleanly as if it had been cut by the sharpest of blades. Auriana could also feel the lingering echoes of her magic fading within the rapidly-cooling metal, a tangible reminder of the strength of her power - which, she supposed, was exactly what Modera had intended.

It was somewhat unnerving, but in scarcely a handful of minutes, the elder Archmage had seen right to the heart of Auriana's consternation, and had determined not to let her wallow. Auriana was not so proud that she could not admit when she was wallowing, though in her own defense, the Council's decision had been both entirely unexpected, and surprisingly hurtful. Not that Modera seemed to mind; apparently, she did not allow for anything more than precisely thirty minutes of indulgent self-pity.

Auriana sighed.

"Very well," she said finally, nodding.

"A wise choice," Modera agreed, looking pleased.

She stepped back, and her eyes came alive with a certain academic eagerness as she grasped Auriana by the shoulders and turned her to face the last training dummy still standing. Evidently, she was not one to waste time.

"Now, Your Majesty," she said briskly, "You may as well destroy that third target. There's something to be said for thoroughness, and I would very much like to see that little spell of yours again…"


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Auriana**

The wailing wind hit Auriana like a wall as she emerged from a portal, and out into the wintery wilds of Northrend. It was not yet snowing, but the heavy clouds hanging overhead seemed ripe to burst at any moment, and the wind was relentless. Auriana was wearing multiple layers - hose, dress, coat and heavy cloak - but even then she could still feel the sharp bite of the cold against her skin. It had been a long time since she had been in Northrend, outside of Dalaran, and she had forgotten just how damn _inhospitable_ the place could be.

Varian, Anduin, and the rest of the Alliance retinue had arrived earlier that day, but Auriana had had a few last minute things to attend to in Stormwind and Dalaran before she was able to join them. The last few weeks had been almost unimaginably busy, and Auriana had barely had a moment to herself, let alone to spend with Varian. They had stumbled into bed after midnight nearly every night since Auriana had returned from her emissary to the Council of Six, only to wake up a few hours later and start all over again. It was worth it to see the Tournament come together as well as it had thus far, but Auriana could not deny that she was badly looking forward to a break - and a chance to watch a few epic battles in the arena.

The official arrival area had been set up about five hundred yards south of the Tournament grounds, well outside the range of the dampening field that prevented the use of any kind of magic. Spellcasting was permitted only in the arena, and nor was the carrying of any weapons allowed. The only exceptions to either rule, aside from the arena itself, were a few dedicated healing stations for wounded combatants, and the Argent Crusade guards who patrolled the entire grounds. The dampening field in particular was a singularly impressive piece of magical engineering, and one that had taken the Kirin Tor over a week to construct. It was one thing to prevent mages from using their powers, but the Tournament field had to inhibit all kinds of spellcasters - from mages to druids to priests to shaman - in a way that could not easily be circumvented without someone noticing.

Auriana was not looking forward to having her powers dampened, but it could not be helped, and she hesitated for only a moment before trudging off through the snow towards a small guard encampment north of the portal. This late at night, there were only three guardsmen in attendance - one tauren, one worgen, and one Argent. They were talking quietly amongst themselves as they huddled around a blazing fire, though they all leapt to attention as they caught sight of Auriana's approach.

"Halt!" the tauren said gruffly, looming over her like a snow-dusted mountain. "You may proceed no further until you have passed inspection. You will surrender any weapons on your person immediately, and submit to a thorough body search."

Auriana raised an eyebrow. She had been expecting the search, given that she had been heavily involved in the security planning, but not so much the abruptness.

"Keme!" the worgen exclaimed. "Don't you know who that is? Show some respect, you lumbering side of beef."

He pushed the tauren out of the way with a scowl, but there was a distinct playfulness in the way he did so, and Auriana could have sworn she saw the tauren smile as he stepped to the side. Evidently, being freezing cold and stuck on guard duty in the middle of nowhere left one with little choice but to get know one's fellow sentries.

 _Perhaps there is hope for this Tournament after all,_ Auriana mused.

"Hello, Your Majesty," the young worgen added, his tone far gentler than that of his tauren counterpart. "Apologies for the harsh greeting, the cold has done little to improve Keme's manners. But he is right, we _do_ have to search you."

"I understand," Auriana assured him quickly. "I carry no weapons."

"No luggage?"

"My bags were sent on earlier today, with the entourage from Stormwind," she explained.

"Well, this won't take long, then. We'll have you back to your King in no time, Your Majesty."

Auriana dutifully held her arms out straight from her sides as the Argent stepped forward, and stood perfectly still as he patted her down and searched her pockets. It was not the most comfortable experience, admittedly, but the Argent was well-practiced and careful, and he completed his inspection as quickly as promised. He finished his search with approving nod, before beckoning for the tauren to hand Auriana a bright, flaming torch.

"You'll find the entrance to the Tournament Grounds at the end of the path," he instructed, pointing. "You may feel a bit strange as you pass through the nullification barrier, but it is not dangerous in the slightest. The Alliance camp will be on your right as you enter."

"Do you need one of us to escort you, my lady?" the worgen asked.

"No, thank you, I'm sure I'll be fine," she said. "Though I should get moving before it starts snowing."

Auriana lifted her torch high in the air, and was pleased to see that the path was clear and well-worn, even despite the snow on the ground. She didn't fancy having to fight her way through a snowdrift in the dark, much less during a storm, and while she had no desire to be rude, she did not wish to linger overlong.

"Be careful not to stray from the path," the Argent added. "The surrounding terrain can be dangerous, and at night in the snow, someone could pass within five feet of you and never notice."

"Thank you for the advice. I hope you three aren't stuck out here for too much longer?"

"Only another half hour or so," the tauren confirmed. "Portal's closed after nine. Er… my lady."

Auriana hid a smile as he offered her a sort of awkward half-bow, before he turned away and withdrew a goblin-made flare gun from his belt. He aimed the firearm straight up over his right shoulder, and shot a single flare high up into the air to signal the presence of a traveller on the path. It bathed the surrounding landscape in an eerie green glow as it burned brightly overhead, and after only a few moments, an answering red flare blazed to life from the direction of the Tournament grounds.

"Head towards the red light, Your Majesty," the worgen instructed. "And be safe."

Auriana accepted his guidance with a short but grateful nod, before turning to step out onto the path. As the Argent had suggested, it was difficult to see, especially once the bright lights of the flares had faded away. She was soon left with only the flicker of her torch for guidance, and she kept her steps small and precise to avoid slipping on the icy ground.

Far from being uncomfortable or frightened, however, Auriana actually found it rather peaceful out on the snow, with only the wind and the ice for company. It was a far cry from the constant flurry of activity that had been her life of late, and she knew, deep down, that her slowness was not _entirely_ due to the difficulty of the terrain. Out here, alone, she could finally _breathe_ , even despite the cold, she gladly took a moment to appreciate the quiet, stark beauty of the frozen north.

Her journey was otherwise uneventful, though as Auriana approached the border of the dampening field, she felt a strange prickle rise at the back of her neck. At first, she thought it was simply her magical senses alerting her to the looming presence of the field, but as she took a few more steps forward, she was struck by the uncomfortable realisation that she was being _watched_. The Tournament grounds were still a ways off yet, but there was definitely someone - or _something_ \- out there following her every move. She couldn't have said precisely how she knew, either, but years of hard fighting had taught her to trust her instincts.

Auriana drew to a halt and switched her torch to her left hand, forcing herself to stand absolutely still. Visibility was limited, even despite the torch; leaving her with no choice but to rely upon her already poor hearing. The howling wind did little to help the situation, and Auriana ground her teeth in frustration as she strained to hear _anything_ that might reveal the location of her mysterious pursuer.

 _Assuming you're not imagining things..._

Several long minutes passed, and just when Auriana was ready conclude exactly that, she once again heard the dull rumble of shifting snow from somewhere behind her. She whirled, a glittering frostbolt already crystallizing around the gloved fingertips of her right hand, and squinted through the gloom. Ten feet ahead, one particularly large mound of snow writhed and twitched, and Auriana's heartbeat accelerated as she tensed herself for the fight.

"Show yourself!" she demanded.

She was more than ready to take on whatever assassin or monster or undead creature thought to ambush her, given that she was still well outside the dampening field and still in full command of her formidable powers. It never once occurred to her to run or hide - though nor did it ever occur to her that her 'assailant' might be a very young, snow-covered orcish child. Which, as it turned out, was exactly who she now faced.

" _What?_ "

Auriana took a step backwards as a small orc tumbled free off the nearest snowdrift, rolled to his feet, and brushed himself off. He seemed just as surprised as she to find another person outside the Tournament grounds at this time of night, but also equally as relieved to find that Auriana was not some kind of nightmare Scourge monstrosity waiting to gobble him up.

He took a few awkward steps to the side, and gave Auriana a small wave. She was hardly an expert orcish childhood development, but she guessed the boy was about five or six years old. His height was not a particularly useful indicator, given that his head was already almost level with her shoulders, but he had the same gawky gait and wide-eyed expression that she had seen on young human children in Stormwind.

"Uh… throm-ka," she said slowly, lowering her hands. "Rosh ka nog ag'zog."

The boy tilted his head to the side. He seemed rather confused by the fact that she had spoken to him in orcish, and he took a few moments to compose himself before he spoke.

"Your orcish is not very good," he said finally, in heavily accented Common.

He enunciated each syllable very carefully, as if concerned that Auriana might be judging his diction. He had a faint lisp where the unfamiliar words curled around his fledgling tusks, but otherwise he was perfectly understandable - and apparently, far more understandable than Auriana herself.

"Um… thanks," she muttered drily. "You speak Common well enough, it seems, perhaps we ought to stick to that?"

"My father taught me," the orc explained.

"Your father?"

The boy thrust his chest out and stood a little straighter, and he fairly beamed with pride as he spoke.

"I am Durak, son of Go'el."

"Thrall's son?" Auriana realised, recognising the name. "Ah… I'm Auriana, daughter of Alliana."

She wasn't sure whether she ought to offer him her hand, as she might with an adult, and so settled for nervously pressing and moulding her gloves around her fingers instead.

"Um… my friends call me Auri," she added, giving him a small smile.

She had very little experience with human children, let alone _orcish_ children, but she supposed a little friendliness wouldn't go astray. The orc boy was clearly bright and inquisitive, and while she was thoroughly out of her depth, there was hardly any point in being rude.

"Auri," Durak repeated, rolling the strange word over his tongue. "Are you a gnome?"

"Am I a… what?" she started. "No, no... I'm human."

Auriana didn't _think_ she looked like a gnome, though for an orc child raised in Orgrimmar, it was perhaps not an easy a distinction to make. She vaguely recalled that Thrall and Aggra had brought the boy to the trial of Garrosh Hellscream in Pandaria, but she doubted he had been old enough to remember much of what had transpired. Nor, evidently, could he recall the difference between humans and gnomes.

"I have not met many humans. I thought they were taller," Durak remarked, eyeing her up and down.

There was not a trace of guile or insult in his tone, merely a keen curiosity and willingness to learn.

"Well, in general, we are," Auriana confirmed, bemused. "I'm… uh… something of an exception. But... definitely not a gnome."

Durak nodded to himself, as if filing the information away for later use. His heavy brow ridge crinkled in concentration, and for a moment Auriana was starkly reminded of Anduin in one of his more studious moods.

"How did you get out here?" she asked, more to stop herself from laughing than anything else.

She glanced out over the ghostly white ridges that bordered the path, once more lifting her torch so that she could peer through the gloom. The bright lights of the Tournament Grounds glittered in the near distance, though Auriana could not see any movement or banners to mark the relative location of the Horde and Alliance camps. As the son of a former Warchief, Auriana did not doubt that Durak would be guarded as well as Varian guarded Anduin, but somehow he had been able to evade his protectors.

"Tunnels," he said brightly, as if that explained everything.

"Tunnels?"

"Yes. There are many tunnels under the snow," Durak explained, pointing. "I have found six!"

Auriana squinted through the darkness in the direction the young orc had indicated. It was difficult to see, but she could faintly make out a darkened in the ridge that may have indicated a hole, surrounded by several piles of snow. It seemed unlikely that Durak had dug all the way out here from the Horde encampment, but in a stark moment of clarity, Auriana realised that there was another, far more reasonable explanation.

"Nerubians…" she breathed.

The word clearly meant very little to Durak, but to Auriana his miraculous escape from the Horde camp suddenly made a great deal more sense. The nerubians were a race of giant, intelligent arachnoids, whose subterranean empire had once stretched beneath the entire continent of Northrend. She had fought a number of nerubians during the war against the Lich King, and had no particular desire to do so again. They were vicious and cunning, though she _had_ thought that most of the species was now extinct - or at the very least, had been driven deep underground. It nevertheless seemed that some of their architecture had survived intact, and she wondered just how many tunnels there were criss-crossing their way beneath the Tournament Grounds. Her mind also saw fit to conjure an image of a huge arachnoid clacking its pincers somewhere in the darkness below their feet, and she shivered in a way that had nothing at all to do with the weather.

"Why did you leave the Horde camp?" she asked, turning her full attention back to Durak. "It's very cold, and I'm sure your father is wondering where you are."

"Father is talking with our friends, in the big tent," he replied, with an exaggerated sigh. "It was very boring. All they do is _talk_. _I_ wanted to see the horses."

"The horses?" Auriana repeated, genuinely surprised by his response.

The orc boy's face lit up at the word, and he bobbed his head up and down with great enthusiasm.

"We do not have many horses in Orgrimmar. I wanted to see your Alliance horses, but I could not find a tunnel to hide me from your guards."

Auriana hid another smile behind her hand. She had very little experience with children, but there was something rather endearing about the boy's eagerness and naïveté.

"Hmm. Well, I probably can't get you past the guards, but…"

She crouched down so that she and Durak were standing eye to eye, and held out her hand, palm up. She squinted in concentration, and a second later her fingers glowed bright purple as she summoned a full-sized illusion of a proud, prancing stallion. She was not especially talented at this sort of magic, but she managed well enough, and Durak certainly didn't seem to find any fault with her spell.

" _Horse_!"

He squealed in utter delight, and immediately began to chase the illusion through the snow. It was an easy enough thing to keep the 'horse' moving just ahead of him, and Auriana couldn't help but to smile as she watched the playful little orc gambol about. She had certainly not _expected_ to find the son of a former Warchief out in the middle of nowhere in Northrend, but she found playing with the young orc oddly enjoyable; perhaps because it was so starkly different and whimsical compared to the chaos that had been her life of late.

"Here! Here! It's the boy - and he's not alone!"

"Durak?!"

They had only been playing for about five minutes when their quiet little game was interrupted by sudden shouts and the thunder of a dozen feet, and Auriana looked up to see an entire pack of Horde guards barreling towards her through the snow. None of them carried weapons, as per the agreement, but that didn't necessarily make four thousand pounds of charging orc flesh any less intimidating.

"Step away from the child!" the frontrunning orc yelled, his booming voice echoing off the ridges. "You will surrender _immediately_ to the Warchief's justice, or face the consequences!"

Auriana instinctively stepped in front of Durak as the orc guards slid to a stop before her, though she did not give cede any ground. She did not immediately seek to call her magic, either, not wanting to make a bad situation worse - but that didn't mean she was unwilling defend herself if necessary.

"There's no need for this to come to blows," she said coolly, lifting her torch so that the orc guards could see. "The boy is unharmed."

"Step away from him!" the lead orc snarled, clearly not listening to a word she was saying. "I will not warn you again!"

"Everyone calm down! That's my _wife_!"

Auriana started at unexpected sound of Varian's voice, her eyes widening as he pushed through the line of orc guards with Vol'jin and Thrall himself in tow. The three leaders all looked similarly tense and haggard, making Auriana wonder just how long Durak had been missing. Thrall, at least, brightened at the sight of his son, quickly stepping forward to lift the boy into his arms, though Varian and Vol'jin both remained wary.

"Hello, Auriana," Varian said drily. "I see you've found a friend."

He gave her a swift, penetrating look, and she nodded to let him know that she was unscathed.

"Warchief! She must have kidnapped the boy!" one of the orc soldiers hissed fiercely, thrusting an accusatory finger in Auriana's direction.

"I did not!" Auriana protested. "He found me - after escaping from _your_ camp, I might add."

"Careful, soldier," Vol'jin drawled, though there was a distinct trace of scepticism in his eyes as he stared down at Auriana.

"What happened? How did you find my son?" Thrall asked, more gently.

"I've just arrived from Stormwind. The portal guards can confirm my arrival," Auriana explained, gesturing back down the path from whence she had come. "I was walking towards the Tournament Grounds when I heard a noise. I went to investigate, and I found Durak here playing in a snowdrift."

"She made me a horse!"

The little orc pointed excitedly over his father's shoulder, and Auriana realised that in her distraction, she had failed to cancel the spell.

"It was merely an illusion, nothing more. The boy wanted… he wanted to see a horse," she said lamely, erasing the spell from existence with a quick flick of her wrist.

"So she may not have taken the boy, but she broke the barrier and violated the anti-magic agreement!" the lead orc guard snapped. "Warchief…"

"Speak to my wife like that again, and we're going to have an issue," Varian growled, his words infinitely more frightening for the icy calm promise of violence in his tone.

"Not ta mention ya gonna have ta deal with me. Watch ya tongue here, or watch it in Orgrimmar. Dis hardly be da time or da place for wild accusations," Vol'jin added, glowering.

Despite his overzealousness, the guard was clearly very loyal, and he immediately stood down at the Warchief's command. Of course, that hardly stopped him from glaring at Auriana as if he thought she might lash out at any moment, but for the moment, at least, he fell silent.

"I didn't break the barrier, or violate the agreement," she clarified quickly, before things got further out of hand. "The dampening field is about thirty yards that way."

"She's right," Thrall confirmed, also clearly well aware of the rising tension in the group. "We are still standing well outside the threshold."

He seemed more relieved by the return of his wayward son than angered by the circumstances, and not at all surprised to find that the boy had been off adventuring. He nodded his understanding to Auriana, and let out a soft growl of affection as he looked down at the wriggling child in his arms.

"Durak, _amonash,_ you mustn't run off like that. Your mother was very worried," he rumbled.

"I am sorry," Durak said, all of a sudden the picture of contrition. "I only wanted to see the horses."

"I think we can chalk this up to an episode of youthful hijinks then, hmm?" Varian suggested. "No need for any… trouble."

His sharp gaze flicked briefly towards the orc guards, then back to Vol'jin.

"Agreed," the Warchief said firmly. "We will return ta da Tournament grounds. Enjoy ya evening, Ya Majesties."

He beckoned, and his guardsmen turned to follow him back across the ice and snow towards the Horde camp. Thrall, however, paused for a moment, and inclined his head to Auriana in a gesture of respect.

"Thank you for finding my son," he said gratefully.

"As I said, he found me," she clarified. "But… you're welcome."

"Goodbye, Auri!" Durak added, waving brightly back at her as his father carried him away.

Auriana gave him a shy wave in reply, before turning back around to face Varian. Unlike Durak, however, he was not smiling. In truth, his expression was almost _angry_ , though he said not a word as he offered Auriana his arm. She accepted it quickly, grateful for his warmth and support, though she sensed a distinct frigidity about him that left her both confused and concerned. Of course, standing in the middle of an ice field was hardly the place to discuss the issue, and Auriana chose to remain equally silent as they passed through the dampening field and made their way into the Tournament proper.

It was lightly snowing by the time they reached the royal tent, located squarely in the centre of the sprawling Alliance camp, and Auriana was very grateful to finally be somewhere out of the cold. Inside, the tent was large and well apportioned, more akin to a guest room in the Keep than any tent Auriana had seen. An intricately carved oak table and chairs dominated the entrance, while at the back there was a large, low-slung bed covered in furs. Two fires at either end of the tent kept the space warm, while the floor was covered in some sort of heavy, insulated fabric to protect them from the snow. It was rugged, but not at all uncomfortable, and a far cry from some of the spartan tents she had slept in as a soldier.

The heat of the two fires soon had Auriana sweating in her heavy cloak, and she quickly set about removing both the cloak and her gloves. As she did, Varian took a seat on one of the chairs, and turned his back towards her as he began to remove his boots. There was clearly something bothering him, though Auriana was damned if she knew what it was. Things between them had been strained of late, admittedly, between the stress of negotiations and the utter lack of time they had spent together in the last few weeks. Their duties had largely kept them apart, save for a few small moments here and there, and Auriana missed him terribly. In a way, they'd almost had more time when they had been carrying on their secret affair, and she had _thought_ he might have been excited to finally have some time alone - if not for his sudden, baffling coldness.

"I… I'm lucky you found me when you did," she ventured tentatively. "I wasn't really sure what to do. I've not had much experience with orc children. Or… any children, really…"

She let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, but Varian was unmoved. He remained with his back turned towards her, grunting slightly as he tugged at his frost-covered laces.

"Vol'jin and Thrall came looking for the boy in our camp," he muttered. "I offered to help, as a gesture of good faith."

"I see," Auriana murmured.

She bit her lip, and fidgeted awkwardly with her hands as she tried to think of something to say.

"Varian… what's wrong? I probably should have returned the boy straight away, but I wasn't sure if he would follow me unless I first gained his trust..."

Varian let out a low sigh, and paused in his task so that he was sitting with one boot on and one boot off.

"I can understand you lying to Vol'jin and the Horde, but I won't have you lying to me," he said finally, turning to face her with a heavy scowl.

Whatever Auriana had thought he might be angry about, she hadn't expected to face such an accusation.

"What?" she stammered, thoroughly affronted. "I… I didn't lie."

"Ridley arrived from Stormwind about half an hour before you did," Varian said stiffly. "According to her, you left Stormwind _hours_ ago. Where have you been?"

Seated as he was, it afforded Auriana a rare opportunity to look him in the eye without craning her neck, and she was surprised to see genuine reproach haunting his hard features. He looked tense and careworn, which was understandable given the circumstances, but she felt that it was another thing entirely for him to outright accuse her of _lying_.

"I was in Dalaran," she said defensively, not bothering to hide her displeasure, "Though I did return to Stormwind before coming here. What I said to Vol'jin was true."

"As far as I was aware, all negotiations with the Kirin Tor were concluded a week ago," Varian said warily.

"It was a personal matter," Auriana countered. "Nothing to do with the Tournament."

Varian's jaw tightened, and if anything, her explanation seemed to make him even unhappier than he already was.

"The Queen of Stormwind taking a secret trip to Dalaran the day before the opening ceremonies looks suspicious, no matter what kind of personal matter it may have been," he growled.

He sighed again, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Everything here is on a knife edge as it is, we can't risk even the _appearance_ of impropriety. The orc boy was barely missing for ten damn minutes before the Horde were here accusing us of taking him."

"I… I honestly didn't think of that," Auriana admitted, "But I would _never_ do anything to jeopardise this Tournament; you know that. Not after all the work we've put in. It really was a personal visit, I assure you."

"So personal you can't even tell _me_?"

Varian's frown deepened, though the anger behind his eyes shifted to something more akin to hurt.

"If you must know, I've been taking some private training sessions with Archmage Modera," Auriana said archly.

"Modera?" Varian echoed, clearly surprised. "She's never shown any interest you before. What changed?"

"I think she feels sorry for me," she muttered.

"And why would she feel sorry for you?" Varian asked, rising slowly to his feet.

His expression was still wary and mistrustful, and Auriana felt a hot flash of anger kindle in the pit of her stomach. She was not unsympathetic to the fact that he was overtired and overworked - as was she - but she still didn't think it justified his suspicion of _her._

"It's nothing," she said dismissively. "Not worth your time."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, hmm?"

Auriana sighed, and hugged her arms around her body. It was perfectly warm in the tent, despite the snow outside, but the disapproval in Varian's gaze made her feel cold.

"The Kirin Tor asked me to step back from my role as Archmage," she begrudgingly confessed. "I haven't lost my title, or been formally expelled, but for all practical intents and purposes I'm no longer a member of the order."

A myriad of emotions flickered across Varian's face - surprise, pity, disbelief - but he settled on something somewhere between anger and confusion.

"What? Your first meeting with the Council was _weeks_ ago, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

His tone was hard, and something in the sternness of his demand made Auriana see proper red. All the stress and loneliness of the last few weeks came welling up inside her, and she found a target for her rage in Varian as she was finally consumed by the full force of her frustration.

"Perhaps because we haven't really _talked_ since our honeymoon!" she snapped. "We've scarcely even been in the same bloody _room_! And when we _do_ finally get a moment alone together, all _you_ do is make demands and accusations!"

Auriana regretted the harsh words the moment they left her mouth, but a bell could not be unrung. She lifted her chin defiantly, fully expecting Varian to argue back; to counter her anger with fire of his own... but instead, his mighty shoulders slumped, and he strode wordlessly across the tent floor to sweep her into his arms. His long fingers gently wove themselves into her hair, and she let out a small gasp of surprise as his lips caught hers and he pulled her tightly against his body.

"Auri… I'm so sorry…" he murmured, cradling the back of her head in one enormous palm. "I didn't… it's been torture these past few weeks... having you so close and yet having so little time..."

Varian brushed his lips across the top of her head, and let out a slow, weary groan.

"I know you'd never lie to me. I… this is not how I wanted our marriage to start."

He sounded unusually defeated, and Auriana deflated in an instant; her fury burning out just as quickly as it had arisen.

"It's… it's not your fault," she murmured, thoroughly thrown by his reaction. "It's not anyone's fault, really. Just… bad timing."

Varian's arms tightened around her body as she spoke, to the point where his grip was almost crushing. Strangely, however, Auriana didn't mind; instead leaning into his touch and resting her head against the hard planes of his chest. _This_ was what she had needed; his warmth and his strength and the _solidity_ of his presence, and she found herself rather overcome by emotion in realising just how much she had _missed_ him.

"Why didn't you tell me about what happened with the Council?" Varian asked, far more gently than he had the first time.

"You've been so stressed… we both have… it just seemed so... unimportant, comparatively speaking."

"There is _nothing_ more important to me than you," he growled.

Auriana could not see his face, but the genuine concern in his voice was heartening, and she felt the tension that had arisen between them slowly start to melt away.

"I didn't… I didn't want to burden you…" she whispered.

Varian carefully extricated himself from her grasp, and leaned down so that he might look her right in the eye.

"Auriana… when I married you, I married your burdens, too," hey said seriously.

"You're a King."

She tried not to let a note of pettiness enter her voice, but she wasn't sure she had succeeded.

"But I'm your husband first," he countered firmly. "Even if I've been doing a poor job of it of late."

He straightened, and brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Is there anything else you've been keeping from me?"

"Varian…" she sighed.

"Auri. Please."

Auriana suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl up on the fur bed and go to sleep, but the warmth and sincerity in Varian's quiet request was impossible to deny.

"I… all this… being Queen… sometimes I feel like I'm drowning," she confessed at last, her voice barely audible over the whistle of the wind outside. "I don't want to complain, and I don't want to let you down… but I really would be lying if I said I'd never considered opening a portal and just... disappearing."

Auriana felt the hard muscles of Varian's chest stiffen at her words, but once again, his response surprised her. He did not immediately speak, instead moving to slide her coat off her shoulders with the greatest of care, before turning his attentions to her boots and her thick woollen dress. She, too, stood in silence as his long, clever fingers worked the various laces free, and it was only once he had stripped her down to her undergarments that he took her by the hand and guided her to the mound of furs before the fire.

It was deliciously warm before the hearth, despite Auriana's state of undress, and even more so when Varian removed his own shirt and settled down behind her. He wrapped his long legs around her body, and gently maneuvered her towards him so that they were sitting comfortably chest to back. She could still feel an aching tension in her shoulders, but it was difficult to remain quite so on edge when she was safely ensconced in the protection of Varian's arms.

"I was crowned the King of Stormwind when I was eighteen," he remarked suddenly, staring into the cheerful, dancing flames. "I thought I was prepared, but I was… well, I was eighteen. I was brash, and overconfident, and stupid."

"So not much has changed, then," Auriana quipped, deadpan.

"Ha, ha."

Varian poked her in the ribs in protest, and let out a low grunt of amusement as she twisted and squirmed. It was a much needed moment of levity between them, and Auriana was quite content to let him tease her until he was satisfied that she had been suitably 'punished'.

"On the day of my coronation, after _quite_ a few glasses of wine," he eventually continued, "I suggested to Terenas Menethil that ruling a kingdom 'couldn't be all _that_ hard'. He had a good long laugh at that, though at the time I didn't understand why."

Auriana felt Varian's chest contract against her back as he barked out a short, rueful laugh, and shifted to rest his chin against the top of her head.

"His amusement made a good deal more sense about a month later. That was all it took - a month - before I realised that I was in way over my head. More than once, I considered taking a boat out into Stormwind Harbour and rowing towards the horizon until my arms gave out."

Auriana had never known Varian as anything other than the King of Stormwind, and she found it hard to picture him as an uncertain young prince taking on the mantle of king for the first time. He was the type of person who seemed to have walked into the world exactly as he was - commanding, lordly, in control - though she supposed it was reasonable to assume that at some point he must have had to _learn_.

"Why did you stay?" she asked quietly.

Varian considered the question for a brief second, idly tangling his fingers through Auriana's hair as he mused.

"I suppose… I stayed because it was my duty. I stayed out of a sense of honour… and out of love for my people," he said seriously. "I have not always been the king they deserve, but I have lived every day of my life striving to give them the best of me. That's all anyone can ever ask of you, Auriana."

He sighed.

"My point is… what you're feeling is normal. I felt it, and I had been trained my whole life to rule. I am not ignorant of the fact that your entire world has been turned upside down in a matter of months… but I cannot help you if you refuse to share your concerns with me."

His voice was warm and compassionate, but there was a determined edge beneath the kindness of his words. He tensed, and wrapped his arms even tighter around Auriana's body, as if trying to shield her from the world.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"I don't want an apology, Auri," he whispered hoarsely. "I want _you_ \- all of you. Your joys _and_ your heartaches. You… you're my _wife_. All I want is to make you happy..."

Varian fell silent as he buried his face in her hair, but he did not need words to convey the strength of his love. Auriana closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, once again struck by just how much she had missed spending quiet time in his arms. The fire was warm against her bare skin, though its comfort paled in comparison to the solace she took from the heat of Varian's body at her back. Outside, she could hear the soft patter of snowflakes on the roof of the tent, and for the first time since they had returned from their honeymoon, she almost felt at peace.

"I'm sorry about what happened with the Council. I know that must have hurt," he added, after a while.

"Honestly, I should have seen it coming," Auriana admitted, pensively wiggling her toes through the thick furs. "If I'd been thinking, if I hadn't been so stressed…"

"Would it have made it any easier to hear?"

"Probably not," she sighed. "I understand the decision, but… I guess I never thought that becoming Queen would mean giving up being a mage."

Varian let a low grunt of sympathy.

"As your King… I agree that reducing your visible presence in Dalaran is probably a prudent choice…" he said slowly, "But as your husband… you don't need the Kirin Tor to make you a mage. To hell with them. You're more of a mage than the entire Council put together."

Auriana twisted in his arms, and looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

"Mathematically speaking, I'm sure not entirely sure that's true…"

"It's true to me," Varian insisted. "I'd rather have you fighting at my side than anyone else on Azeroth. You are extraordinary, and that is something that _no one_ can take away from you."

There was absolutely no doubt in his voice or in his eyes, and Auriana suddenly felt as if her heart would burst from the sheer strength of her love for him.

"I love you, Varian," she whispered, reaching out to stroke the chiseled line of his jaw.

"I love you, too," he rumbled. "And… I apologise for snapping at you earlier."

"I understand. You're stressed... tired… worried..."

Varian shook his head.

"It's no excuse, but… we were barely here for half an hour before it started. People arguing over everything from tent arrangements to the colour of the pennants on the arena. I don't know how we're going to hold things together for two weeks of this Tournament."

Auriana shifted her weight so that she was lying on her side in Varian's lap, and began to trace gentle circles on the bare skin of his stomach with her fingertips. She wanted to help him, to say the magic words that would ease his troubles, but it was difficult to do so when she shared his concern. She had seen the mistrust in the orc guard's eyes when he had accused her of harming Durak, and while that situation had been diffused with relative ease, she couldn't help but to wonder whether the entire Tournament was simply a giant powder keg waiting to ignite.

"I'm sorry, too," she said instead. "I should have been more open with you. You would have thought that was a lesson I would have learned by now."

"Well, you said it yourself. We haven't had the time."

Varian touched a hand to her cheek, and turned her face upwards so that they were looking directly at one another once more. The frown lines at the corner of his eyes had deepened, and he suddenly looked far older than he had only a few minutes ago. The reflection of the shifting firelight only served to add to the effect, casting strange shadows across his scars and making him look distinctly haunted.

"Auriana…"

"Yes?"

"I… I'm afraid you'll come to regret me," he whispered throatily. "Or worse, resent me."

The admission had clearly cost him something, and he looked almost surprised that he had said the words out loud. Despite everything they'd been through, Varian was still quite conscious of appearing vulnerable in front of her, and Auriana did not take his hushed confession at all lightly.

"Never," she said swiftly, twisting herself upwards so that she was kneeling before him.

"But…"

" _Never._ You are mine, and I am yours. That's all there is to it," Auriana whispered, taking his rugged between her hands. "Adjusting to a new life may not be easy… but that doesn't mean I would ever regret choosing _you_. Far from it."

She emphasised her point with a soft, aching kiss, though Varian was initially slow to respond. At first, he kissed her hesitantly, almost shyly, as if he were afraid to taste rejection on her lips, but he soon grew bolder and more impassioned. He reached for her as if she were a cool drink of water and he a man dying of thirst; his fingers meeting her flesh with a sudden desperation that belied his brief moment of doubt.

Auriana moaned as he pressed her down into the furs, revelling in his weight and the way her body came alive beneath his burning touch. The heat of him put the hearthfire to shame, and in that moment she completely forgot about the Tournament, the Horde, and the rest of the world entirely. There was _him_ , and only him, and nothing else even remotely mattered.

"Auri…" Varian murmured, his eyes darkening to an inky black as he stared down at her with ravenous intent, "It's very cold outside…"

"So it is," she panted, her heart racing in anticipation. "What of it?"

A slow, wolfish grin spread across his face, and the last, lingering vestiges of tension between them faded away as he cradled her close.

"It's been far too long, little wife," he growled. "Come keep me warm…"


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Aaaaand the champions are here! Who would you place your bets on?**

 **Anduin**

Despite the snowfall overnight, the first day of the Tournament dawned bright and clear. Anduin had awoken several hours earlier, unable to sleep, but with the opening ceremony fast approaching, he had finally left the warmth of his quarters in search of his father and Auriana. He had found his bed surprisingly comfortable, despite the fact that he was sleeping in a tent at the roof of the world, but he had been far too anxious and excited about the Tournament to properly rest.

Varian had initially refused to allow Anduin to attend the event, citing concerns over his safety. They had argued the matter back and forth for quite some time, until Anduin had pointed out that being left behind would indicate to the Horde that Varian did not trust them to maintain the peace during the Tournament. Which, while probably at least _partially_ true, was not the kind of message that the Alliance should be sending at such a tenuous time. Anduin was not especially interested in the fighting, but he was _very_ invested in seeing the Alliance and the Horde take their first tentative steps towards peace, and he had been overjoyed when Varian finally relented.

He had arrived at the Tournament the previous afternoon, along with his father and the rest of the retinue from Stormwind, and had immediately set about exploring the grounds - or at the very least, he had explored them as well as he was able with half a dozen guards on his tail. He had been far too young - and his father far too paranoid - to have attended the first Argent Tournament, and he was eager to discover such a new and different part of the world. Unfortunately, night came quickly in Northrend, and he had only had the chance to survey part of the sprawling Alliance camp before darkness fell.

The grounds looked even more impressive now in the daylight, but once again Anduin was forced to put his curiosity aside in favour more practical. He cut a path directly to the large blue tent that dominated the centre of the Alliance camp, pausing onto to nod a greeting to the four royal guardsmen standing watch outside. They were unarmed, of course, as per Tournament rules, but he had no doubt that they were more than capable of doing damage with their fists were they so provoked.

They were not here to defend against him, however, which was why Anduin was quite surprised when he was stopped from entering the tent by a gentle hand upon his chest. He turned to face the soldier responsible, immediately recognising her as Auriana's personal bodyguard, and raised an eyebrow. As the crown prince, he was quite unused to being barred entry to just about anywhere, and he wasn't sure why he had been stopped.

"Ridley?"

"Ahem," she coughed, giving him a small, awkward smile. "You may wish to… announce yourself, Your Highness."

"What?" he said, thoroughly baffled. "I won't wake them, if that's your concern. It's nearly ten in the morning, they never sleep that late."

"I know. Just… trust me on this one?" Ridley entreated, her slightly strained expression suggesting that she knew something that Anduin did not.

He glanced briefly at the other guards, who were all either studiously staring at their feet, or at the fluttering golden pennants overhead, and he frowned.

"Alright…" he said slowly, then called more loudly, "Uh… Father? Auri? Hello?"

Anduin heard a few quiet scuffling noises, and a second later Auriana slipped outside, the fresh snow crunching beneath her booted feet. She looked slightly flushed and out of breath, as if she had just run several miles, though she was at least dressed for the occasion in a well-cut woollen dress of midnight blue. As Anduin looked closer, however, he realised her hair was rather messy at the back, and her dress haphazardly laced in such a way that suggested she had only just thrown it on.

 _Most unusual._

"Anduin. Good morning!" she said, quickly brushing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

"I came to escort you to the the opening ceremony," he said, thoroughly nonplussed. "Is Father up?"

"Awake, yes; dressed, no," she confirmed, glancing back over her shoulder into the darkness of the tent. "But the opening ceremony isn't for another hour or so, isn't it?"

"It starts in twenty minutes, actually. I was starting to wonder where you were."

Auriana's eyes widened in mild alarm, and her gaze flicked upwards to note the position of the sun overhead.

" _Twenty minutes_?" she repeated. "Ah… excuse me."

She ducked back inside the tent, leaving Anduin standing awkwardly outside in the snow with Ridley and the other guards. None of them would look him in the eye, and Anduin decided that there was little point in engaging them in small talk. Fortunately, Auriana was gone for only a few more minutes before she reemerged, this time with her skirts far neater and her hair no longer in quite such a state of disarray.

"Varian suggested we go on and find our seats - he'll be part of the ceremonies with the other leaders, so he won't be joining us right away," she explained, throwing a warm cloak about her shoulders as she spoke.

"In that case, I would be pleased to be your escort," Anduin said grandly, offering his arm with what he hoped was a dashing flourish.

The walk to the main arena was not overlong, though the milling crowd made it slow going, and they had to take care not to lose Ridley and the other guard who had followed them from the royal tent. There were people absolutely _everywhere_ , dressed in bright colours and waving coloured pennants high in the air. The crowd was also much larger than Anduin had expected, and he realised he may have underestimated just how popular arena matches were amongst the citizenry of both the Alliance and the Horde. The other option was that people were more invested in the prospect of peace than he had hoped, though this seemed unlikely. Certainly, the group of orcs carrying a sign that read 'Holler If You're Hordey' were only here for one reason.

"You look well," he remarked, watching Auriana closely as they made their way out of the Alliance camp and down the promenade toward the arena entrance.

Anduin was not unaware of the strain that she and his father had been under of late, nor the tension it had cause in their household. He had not interfered, assuming that neither of them would appreciate being 'coddled', but he was quietly relieved to see a healthy colour once again warming her cheeks, and a slight spring in her step as she walked at his side.

"It's amazing what a good night's sleep will do."

Her pretty flush darkened as she spoke, and between the look on her face and the strange behaviour of the guards, Anduin began to strongly suspect that she hadn't actually slept very much at all.

 _Oh._

He looked away, ostensibly under the guise of admiring a lurid pink banner that read 'Go Gnome or Go Home!', but in truth he was trying to hide the heat rapidly spreading across his ears and neck.

 _Time for a change of topic,_ he thought.

"Ah… tell me all about arena fighting," he said aloud, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the exuberant throng. "How does this all work?"

Auriana paused to allow a group of loud, rambunctious dwarves to pass, and looked across at him with a dubious tilt of her head.

"Your father never dragged you along to a match? I find that hard to believe, given that Varian is… well, _Varian_..." she snorted.

"He might have when I was younger, I think, but I don't remember much."

Anduin grinned.

"It's not exactly my thing."

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Auriana admitted, her nose crinkling as she laughed. "Well, this kind of arena fighting is very different to the fighting your father would have done in the Crimson Ring. As I've mentioned before, _that_ was an underground slave tournament, where it was perfectly acceptable to obtain victory by grievous injury - or death."

She fell silent as they resumed moving through the crowd, following the directions of the Argent Crusade guards to enter the main arena. As the Queen and Prince of Stormwind, they were afforded some of the best seats in the house, but actually _getting_ to those seats proved to be somewhat difficult. The arena was packed to capacity, and even with the assistance of the guards it was some time before they managed to take their place in the front and centre of the Alliance spectators.

"Fighting to the death is not what we're doing here, though… right?" Anduin asked, once they had both settled into place.

He had taken part in some of the preparations for the event, but Auriana and his father had done the bulk of the work on the Alliance side, and he did not know exactly _how_ the Tournament fighting was supposed to work.

"No, of course not," Auriana continued, shifting her weight as she adjusted her skirts around her legs and removed her cloak. "This is a sanctioned arena match; there are rules, referees, and protections in place to avoid serious injury."

She pointed to several weapons racks that lined the outside of the arena floor.

"See the racks down there? Whether your weapon of choice is an axe or a sword or even a hunter's quarrel, they all have blunted edges and reduced weight. You'll still get a nasty bruise if someone hits you, but they won't draw blood or sever limbs," she explained. "For casters like me, there are certain spells that are forbidden, and the use of which will result in immediate disqualification. Participants must also declare which school of spellcasting and weapons they're using before each bout - however, once a weapon is in the arena, it's fair game."

"So if your opponent dropped a weapon, you could pick it up?" Anduin wondered.

"Absolutely," Auriana confirmed.

She was sitting forward on the very edge of her seat, and while Anduin did not have any particular interest in arena fighting himself, he could not help but to find her enthusiasm contagious. It was rare to see her so openly excited about something, and he very much hoped that she would remain in such high spirits as the Tournament progressed.

"Alright, so how do you win?" he asked.

"Well, there are a few different ways. The first is by traditional knockout. While those weapons are blunted, they're still enough to knock someone out. There's also nothing stopping you from just… punching your opponent in the face," she said.

Auriana aimed a gentle punch at the muscle of his shoulder to illustrate her point, and Anduin made a great show of recoiling as if it had really hurt.

"Ouch!" he protested, letting out a gasp of mock horror. "What kind of monster beats up on an innocent young prince?"

"Anduin, you'd have to have at least seventy or eighty pounds on me," she snorted. "I'm sure you could manage."

"I don't know, you look like you'd fight dirty…" he teased, eyeing her up and down.

"I _am_ known to be a biter."

She laughed and shook her head, and for a moment she looked far away, as if she were actually picturing herself biting him in the heat of battle.

"Anyway… the _second_ way to eliminate an opponent is by landing a strike on a critical area of the body - on, say, the neck, or the chest," she continued, still grinning. "The blades are enchanted to show marks where they make contact with the body, so there's no cheating."

"What if someone hit you in the leg?"

"It's considered a non-critical strike. In a real battle, you're more likely to be able to fight with a leg injury than with your throat slit open, so in the arena, it's not considered sufficient enough to secure a victory," she clarified.

"Makes sense, I suppose, in a morbid sort of way," Anduin nodded.

As they spoke, the arena continued to fill, until every inch of available space was filling with excited spectators. There was a distinct atmosphere of carnival in the air, though Anduin did not miss the Argent Crusade and Shado-Pan guards patrolling the perimeter with wary eyes, looking to intervene at the first sign of trouble.

"The _third_ way to win is by a spell knockout," Auriana added. "You see the mages down there, on the lowest ring of the stands?"

Anduin leaned forward in his seat so he might get a better look, and was surprised to see a number of Kirin Tor mages gathered in a small circle. He had seen a few of them walking around outside the day before, in their distinctive pink and violet robes, but he had assumed that they were there as guards, rather than to facilitate the fighting.

"When a match starts, they will be responsible for providing each fighter with a shield that repels magic. It won't deter physical attacks, but it will resist a certain number of magical attacks before being depleted."

"How strong is the shield? As in, how quickly could you get through it?" Anduin asked.

"Me, or an average mage?" Auriana said slyly, cocking her left eyebrow and giving him a rakish grin. "For someone like me… if I were facing an opponent standing still, maybe three or four hits. An average mage, maybe twice that. However… in the ring, an opponent isn't going to be standing still. They can physically dodge, as well as mitigate spell casts with their own magical abilities."

"I see…"

The Kirin Tor mages disappeared from Anduin's view as he settled back in his seat, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he considered the new information.

"Uh… Auri? Can I ask a dumb question?"

"Sure," she said, smiling.

"Those mage shields sound very impressive. They seem like they'd be invaluable on a battlefield. So…"

"So why don't we shield our troops like that in real combat?" Auriana nodded, quickly catching on.

"Exactly."

"Not a dumb question at all," she assured him. "Count them."

"The mages? Um…"

She pointed down below a second time, and waited patiently as Anduin made a quick tally.

"Twenty-four."

"Correct. Six per fighter," she concurred, looking at him expectantly as if the mathematics explained everything.

For a brief moment, Anduin was lost, when the solution came to him in a sudden burst of inspiration.

"Oh! It takes six mages to maintain each shield. That's far too many to be practical, right?"

"Precisely," Auriana said, nodding her approval. "Fully trained mages are something of a rarity, and battle mages even more so. Certainly when compared to infantrymen. It would be an inefficient use of resources to try to shield each soldier individually."

"A shame we can't. That kind of thing could save lives," Anduin mused, his healer's mind instantly turning to the possibilities.

"We do what we can elsewhere," Auriana murmured. "It's not perfect, by any means, but you have to work with what you have."

Her tone was light, though a brief shadow flickered across her features as she spoke.

She looked faintly saddened and distant, and Anduin's stomach twisted as he realised he may have inadvertently brought up some painful memories.

"Ah... so we've got knockout, magical knockout, and a 'killing' blow," he prompted quickly, trying to steer the conversation back to a happier topic. "Any other way to win?"

"One can surrender. It's considered sportsmanlike to yield if forced into a position where you would not be able to conceivably escape were this a 'real' battle," Auriana said, after a brief pause.

She sat back slightly in her seat, and rested a small, booted foot up against the lower edge of the guard rail. Her expression grew more serious, and when she continued, her voice was much quieter.

"Though I doubt you'll see much of that in the Tournament here."

"Why not?"

Auriana gestured not to the arena floor, but this time up into the stands above. The arena was almost at capacity now, and Anduin's eyes practically hurt from the sheer abundance of colour and movement crammed into a relatively small space. There were banners and signs galore, just as there had been outside, and even a what appeared to be a giant, paper-crafted lion's head. Quite a few of the Alliance spectators cheered and waved when he turned around, and Anduin couldn't help but to smile in return.

"Look around you," she murmured. " _Everyone_ is here to show off, or to prove something. You'll see it in the champion choices, too - it isn't just about who is the best fighter. You'll see all sorts of political and cultural biases come into play."

Anduin twisted back around to face her, watching her expression closely as she in turn studied the crowd. He had assumed each participating faction would simply pick their best warriors and have done with it, but it seemed that there was much more going on here than met the eye.

"Such as?" he asked, wondering exactly what kind of biases might come into play.

"Well… you probably won't see any death knights or warlocks in the ring," Auriana explained, after a brief pause. "As much as we all look the other way when fighting with them in war, they're still regarded with suspicion by most of the general populace. You probably won't see any politically divisive or controversial figures representing their factions, either."

"And culturally?"

"The night elves most likely won't nominate a mage champion, for example - too much baggage from the highborne," she said, glancing across at a nearby group of the same. "I would be surprised if the draenei didn't have at least one Light user on their team. That sort of thing."

Anduin nodded. What she was saying made sense, and he was somewhat surprised that he hadn't thought of it himself. Admittedly, he had been so focused on helping to make the Tournament a reality that he hadn't really considered what might happen now that they were actually all here. The political games, it seemed, might prove to be as interesting as the physical contest.

"How _do_ people choose champions, then?" he wondered.

"It varies. I know the gnomes held an internal competition to choose, for example. Otherwise, they might convene a council of sorts to vote on the issue, or a faction leader might have final veto. Traditionally, a champion could refuse the nomination, though again, I doubt you'll see that today."

"Do you know who Father has chosen to represent Stormwind?"

Anduin had been trying to pry the information out of Varian for weeks, but no matter how much he had wheedled and cajoled, his father had remained tight-lipped.

"Not a clue," Auriana said lightly. "He wanted to keep it a surprise."

Anduin narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but her expression gave nothing away. He was skeptical of her claim that she didn't know, given that she was probably the only person on Azeroth with whom Varian was truly open, but perhaps in this case he had decided to keep a secret even from her.

"He'd have to choose himself, right?" he speculated. "I mean… it's an _arena_ tournament."

"Not necessarily, but… I think it's a safe bet that he will. He hides it well, but I know he's been practically quivering with excitement at the thought of getting to fight in the arena again," Auriana admitted.

"My father doesn't really seem like the type to… quiver," Anduin said, snorting.

"Not that you've seen, maybe."

Auriana abruptly clapped a hand over her mouth, and Anduin realised that she had not at all intended to speak out loud. Her cheeks immediately flooded crimson, though she was spared from having to try to explain herself by the sudden, triumphant blare of a herald's horn. An eager hush fell over the crowd, and a second later Anduin heard the sound of wood scraping on stone as the great gate at the back of the arena opened, and each of the respective faction leaders of the Alliance and the Horde began to file into the arena in two straight lines.

While Anduin was not especially inclined to find arena itself exciting, he nevertheless felt his heart beat faster as the crowd broke out into thunderous cheering and applause. Like Auriana, their enthusiasm for the event was catching, and he added his own voice to the mix as Varian and Vol'jin stepped onto the arena floor. They walked at the head of the procession, carefully keeping apace of one another so that neither the Alliance nor the Horde were given prominence over the other. Vol'jin was the taller of the two, of course, but Varian was by no means dwarfed, and with each in their best armour, they made for quite the imposing pair.

The small group of leaders fanned out around the arena in a loose half circle, alternating between Alliance and Horde. Intermingling the leaders was intended to convey a sense of unity and to visually break the divide between the factions, though each position in the circle had still been carefully calculated and planned well in advance. It had been agreed, for example, that it was in everyone's best interests to keep Genn and Sylvanas Windrunner as far away from one another as possible. Both sides seemed to be willing to play nice, however, at least for the moment, and Anduin let out a small sigh of relief as the Tournament's official announcers took their place in the centre of the arena.

Anduin wasn't familiar with the announcers himself, but he had been informed that they were quite popular on the arena circuit. The taller of the pair was a tuxedo-clad male goblin with a confident swagger and enormous bat-wing ears that he had somehow managed to cram beneath a jaunty top hat. In contrast, His companion was a bubbly, bright-eyed female gnome with gleaming platinum hair and a most fashionable silkweave dress. Both wore wide, beaming smiles, and they waved happily up at the stands as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, gnomes and tauren, boys and girls and children of all ages: _welcome_ one and all to the first annual - well, assuming we don't all kill each other, anyway, ha! - Alliance-Horde Grand Tournament!" the goblin boomed, tipping his top hat with a roguish swagger. "My name is Jax Boomsprocket, and this is my lovely co-host, Tink Togglefuse. Tink, are you _excited_?"

"I sure am, Jax!" the gnome squeaked. "We've been from one side of Azeroth to another on the arena circuit, but this one takes the proverbial cake. We have the _best_ fighters from the Alliance and the Horde; kings, champions, war heroes - you name it, we've got it, and we're going to throw them all into an arena together until one team stands victorious!"

Their voices had both been magically enhanced, and Anduin could hear them as clearly as if they were standing right next to him.

"So, Tink, tell me - what can this fantastic crowd look forward to over the coming weeks?"

"Well, Jax, we have fourteen teams - seven Alliance and seven Horde - competing in a double round robin format," Tink explained, giving her co-host a beaming smile. "At the end of the round robin stage, the eight teams with the most wins will progress to fight in the quarter-finals. In the case of a tie in the qualifying rounds, the team with the best head to head record will progress. From there, it's sudden death until we have our winner!"

"I can't wait!" Jax enthused. "Which is why it is my genuine honour to introduce your Master of Ceremonies, Highlord Tirion Fordring!"

He gestured dramatically to the arena gates, and a moment later a tall, stately paladin emerged and made his way to the centre of the arena floor. The Highlord was an impressive man, and his stature even more imposing when compared to the relative size of the goblin and gnome announcers. His armour had been polished to a high sheen, and while he carried no weapon in respect of the Tournament rules, his every movement conveyed power and authority.

"Thank you," Fordring said gravely, his serious manner a stark contrast to the lively showmanship of the announcers. "It is my sincere honour to welcome you all to Northrend, and to host this Tournament on behalf of the leadership of the Alliance and the Horde. The last time we came together in this place, we stood in terrible shadow terrible foe - but today, we stand only in the spirit of unity and cooperation, in the hopes of a brighter future for all of Azeroth."

His voice was deep and stirring, and Anduin could have sworn that he saw an aura of the Light shimmering about the Highlord's shoulders. He felt instantly heartened, though the reactions from the faction leaders appeared to be rather mixed. Several were smiling, including Prophet Velen and Gelbin Mekkatorque, while others, such as Sylvanas, looked as if they would have rather been anywhere else. Varian's expression was stoic and inscrutable, as it tended to be at these kind of formal public events; though when it came to his father Anduin privately considered anything better than visible displeasure to be a win.

"I will not leave you all in suspense while I make an overlong speech, however," Fordring added, his lips curling in a wry smile. "I am sure you are all eager to meet your champions, so without any further adieu, let us commence the nominations! Trade Prince Gallywix?"

He gestured towards a squat, sallow-skinned goblin in a gaudy hat who stood at the end of the line, and beckoned him forward. The goblin leaned heavily on his jewel-encrusted cane as he accepted Fordring's invitation and moved to the centre of the arena, though there was a certain swagger to the way he moved, and a distinct note of arrogance in his harsh voice as he spoke.

"The Bilgewater Cartel calls on Gazz Farshot and Livvy Boltstorm," he drawled.

A huge cheer went up from the crowd at his words, though once again Anduin himself had no idea who either goblin was meant to be.

"Oh, good choice," Auriana murmured, leaning forward as a slender female goblin rose to her feet and was summarily teleported down to the arena floor by the Kirin Tor mages.

The goblin champion was dressed in flamboyant robes of bright purple, and her hair had been styled so elaborately that Anduin wasn't entirely sure how it managed to defy gravity. Outrageous gems glittered at her throat and upon each of her short fingers, reflecting the light in such a way that made her look like a walking Winter Veil tree, and even from this distance he could see that her nails were painted vivid pink.

"You know her?"

"Not personally, but she has quite the reputation on the arena circuit," Auriana said eagerly. "They call her the 'Kindler of Kezan'. Fire mage, very talented. Obscenely wealthy, too."

"Do you know the other one, too?" Anduin asked, watching as the goblin mage was joined by her teammate; a sharp-eyed male goblin with a beaky nose.

The goblin Farshot winked roguishly as he sidled up to his new partner, though she ignored him with an expression of utmost disdain. Evidently, she was not impressed by Gallywix's other choice.

 _Interesting,_ Anduin thought.

"I don't know him, no, though I'm guessing from the crowd's reaction that he's well known in arena circles, too," Auriana observed.

She applauded politely as the two goblins each formally accepted their nominations and waved to the crowd, before they moved off to one side to await the announcement of their opposition. The Tournament had been structured so that teams were fighting for their kingdoms or nation states - or in this case, their Cartel - rather than the Alliance or the Horde as a whole.

"How did Tirion decide who to nominated first?" Anduin wondered. "I would assume there are some people out there who would care very much about the order of the draw."

"You assume correctly, which is why we drew lots. The orcs are next, look."

True to Auriana's word, Fordring next summoned Thrall to speak on behalf of the orcs. The crowd was certainly excited to see the legendary former Warchief up close, though Thrall himself looked undeniably tired, and his presence was somehow diminished. He was still a striking figure, with his broad shoulders and noble bearing, but it seemed to Anduin, at least, that there was a subtle spark missing from his eyes.

"Orgrimmar nominates Varok Saurfang, and Aggralan, daughter of Ryal," Thrall said quietly.

He spoke without fanfare, though the crowd more than made up for his solemnity with a veritable storm of cheers and claps. There were a large number of orcs scattered throughout the stands, and even the non-orcish spectators seemed thrilled at the prospect of seeing one of the Horde's greatest heroes in action.

"Thrall's wife? And _Saurfang_?" Anduin exclaimed, almost shouting in an effort to make himself heard.

"That'll be a tough team to beat. I've never seen Saurfang duel, but his battlefield reputation is formidable," Auriana noted, her eyes narrowing shrewdly as the orcs took their place in arena. "And Aggra… well, she _taught_ Thrall."

"Is dueling all that different from fighting in a battle?" Anduin asked, his voice softening as the crowd quietened in anticipation of the next announcement.

"Very much so," Auriana confirmed, nodding. "A battle is inherently more chaotic than a duel, and your success or failure often depends on factors outside your control."

"For example?"

"For example…" she mused, drumming her fingers on the guardrail before them as she thought, "Ah! I was once fighting one of Garrosh Hellscream's dark shaman during the Siege of Orgrimmar, when he was wiped out by one of his own artillery blasts. I didn't win because of my skill, I won because I was lucky, and he wasn't. Things like that happen all the time in a battle, but less so in a duel - especially one in a controlled environment like the arena here."

"I see," Anduin said, her answer only serving to confirm his suspicion that he had no desire to ever find himself in the middle of a battlefield.

"A battle is fast, and hectic, and there's no time to wait for the 'perfect' opportunity to strike," Auriana added. "You take what openings you can get. You kill, and you move on. A duel is slower, more strategic. In this _particular_ context, you'll also see people trying to show off; doing all sorts of spectacular things that you'd never see them attempt were this an actual matter of life and death."

In the time she had been speaking, two more leaders had made their nominations. For Gilneas, Genn had called upon a hunter, Barrett Arnes, and a rogue, Lillian Fletcher. Anduin didn't know the hunter, but he knew Lillian from her time in service to Genn as one of his most trusted guards. She had been friendly and affable every time they had met, especially for a worgen, though Anduin also knew from experience that she was a dextrous hand with a blade when she had to be.

Baine Bloodhoof had also nominated himself on behalf of the tauren of Thunder Bluff, as well as an enormous druid named Anak Skyshaker, who was somehow so large that he made Baine himself look small. Anduin was pleased to see that his long-time friend looked bright and eager, and he happily added a few encouraging whoops of his own to the din as Baine and his druid took their place amongst the other champions.

Nominations proceeded swiftly from that point onwards, and Anduin and Auriana sat in companionable silence as they watched the show. Prophet Velen nominated two Light wielders, as Auriana had predicted, in the form of the paladin Vindicator Boros, and a priestess, Anchorite Inaara. The gnomes also nominated a priestess, a stern-faced elder named Siffi Brightspark, as well as a spunky little mage named Moxie Arcshine, who looked as if she couldn't have been all that much older than Anduin himself. Having been around healers for most of his education, Anduin _was_ keen to see some battle priests in action, and he cheered on the priests louder than he had almost anyone else.

The Pandaren nominated monks on both sides, with Aysa Cloudsinger standing for the Alliance Pandaren alongside a genial, barrel-chested male called Polo Swiftpaw. Her opposite amongst the Huojin, Ji Firepaw, had also nominated himself - as well as a stunningly beautiful young female monk named Suchi Whiteblossom. With flowers in her hair and her fur brushed to an immaculate shine, she looked rather out of placed compared to her grizzled or armour-clad competitors, but there was no doubt in Anduin's mind that Ji had chosen her for a reason. There was also no doubt that Aysa was displeased by Suchi's nomination, judging from the sour expression that crossed her face as the pretty young monk took her place at Ji's side, but the nominations moved on before Anduin could ask Auriana her opinion on the matter.

For the dwarves, Moira Thaurissan nominated a pair of twin sisters, Ingra and Britta Stonegrip, who both looked as if they could crush Anduin to death with their bare hands - or just about any _other_ body part they chose. For the night elves, Tyrande called upon her adopted protégé, Shandris Feathermoon, along with none other than Broll Bearmantle. He was a logical choice, of course, given his extensive experience fighting in the Crimson Ring at Varian's side, and Anduin could have sworn he saw a smirk of genuine amusement flash across his father's face as Broll made his way past.

By far the most controversial nomination, however, was Lor'themar Theron's choice of Aethas Sunreaver, a former member of the Council of Six who had been expelled from Dalaran alongside his Sunreavers after the incident with the Divine Bell. A hushed muttering broke out through the crowd as the strikingly handsome elf entered the arena, and people were so fixated on his presence that there was almost no acknowledgement of his teammate, a haughty young Blood Knight paladin named Penthas Sunbinder. Even Auriana let out a soft harrumph of surprise when Aethas' name was announced, though whether she was upset or merely thoughtful, Anduin couldn't quite tell.

Despite the crowd's interest in Aethas Sunreaver, any further discussion from the crowd was quickly stifled when Fordring at last called upin Vol'jin to speak on behalf of the trolls. Like Baine and Ji Firepaw before him, he also made a self-nomination - though as Warchief of the Horde, Anduin understood he probably had little choice _but_ to fight. He could see that what Auriana had said was true - even something as simple as selection of champions was rife with politics, and it played out in every movement and glance and word.

Vol'jin did not seem to mind fighting for his people, at least - though his enthusiasm was _nothing_ compared to that of his arena partner. Anduin had never met Auriana's troll friend Zala'din, though he had heard much about their adventures in Draenor. He had a good sense of Zala'din's personality from Auriana's stories, but even then had not expected the sheer amount of energy and charisma the troll possessed. He strode into the arena like he had already won the Tournament, flexing his muscles and winking at a group of giggling female trolls in the third row. Auriana rolled her eyes at that, though she could barely contain her smile as she watched her friend happily lap up the crowd's attention.

Unfortunately, her amusement was short-lived, as Fordring called upon the second-to-last faction leader, Sylvanas Windrunner. She stood at the very end of the line, slightly apart from the rest of the group, but even if she had been front and centre, there was something in the way she carried herself that was distinctly _separate_. A cold intelligence glittered in her blood red eyes, and she stared up at the assembled crowd as if she could see into each and every one of their souls.

"Lady Sylvanas, are you ready to make your nomination?" Fordring asked, seemingly unperturbed by her disquieting appearance.

"I am."

Sylvanas may have only said two words, but the soft rasp of her voice made the hairs on the back of Anduin's neck stand up, and from the looks of it, he wasn't the only who felt uncomfortable. Auriana's bright smile had faded into a thoughtful frown, and the once-eager crowd fell into a tense silence. There were a fair number of Forsaken scattered throughout the stands, but even _they_ fell quiet beneath the imperious gaze of the Banshee Queen.

"Undercity nominates Harlan Gallows and Valerie Heartsbane," she declared.

Two rogues rose in the farthest corner of the stands at her request, and were quickly teleported down to the arena. Both accepted their nominations in silence, with little more than curt nods in Fordring's direction, and while the crowd still applauded their acceptance, they were noticeably more subdued than they had been for any of the other competitors.

"I thought they were a myth…" Auriana whispered, seemingly speaking more to herself than to Anduin.

She leaned forward in her seat, and the frown lines at the corners of her eyes deepened.

"A myth?"

"One of those campfire stories soldiers tell to scare each other. Rumour has it that Sylvanas has a pair of assassins that are loyal to her and her alone," she explained, watching the two rogues like a hawk. "According to the stories, she's ordered a number of hits on people who… _inconvenience_ her. They've killed Alliance, Horde, even some of her own Forsaken. They come like shadows in the night, and leave no trace."

Auriana let out a slow breath, and bit her lip.

"I once met a dwarf in the Twilight Highlands who claimed to have seen them - a man and a woman, tall and skinny and silent as the grave. If that really _is_ them, and it's not just a campfire tale, it's an interesting choice."

"Maybe they're just her best fighters," Anduin suggested, but Auriana shook her head.

"It's never that simple when it comes to Sylvanas. She always has a plan, even if it's not immediately obvious. If she's taking a risk like exposing the identities of her personal assassins, you can be damn sure she's doing it for a reason," she said flatly.

She wrinkled her nose in consternation, but before she could speculate further, Varian was summoned forth as the last leader to name his champions. The King of Stormwind was welcomed far more warmly than Sylvanas and her rogues, and some of the tension in the crowd lessened as they awaited the final announcement.

"And last, but certainly not least," Fordring intoned, "King Varian - who do you nominate to stand for the city of Stormwind?"

"I nominate myself - and I accept, obviously," Varian answered drily, sending a wave of much-needed laughter rippling across the crowd. "As for my second…"

He paused, and his scarred gaze found Anduin and Auriana in the stands.

"... I nominate Auriana Wrynn."

Anduin felt as if he had been hit by a wave of sound as the stands behind him simply _erupted_ , and Auriana turned to face him with a sly, knowing smile. Her reputation was formidable - as was Varian's - and there were clearly a lot of people who looked forward to seeing them in action together.

"You knew!" Anduin exclaimed, bumping her shoulder playfully with his own. "You knew he was going to choose you; why did you lie?"

"I didn't lie, I was… building the suspense."

Auriana winked at him as she rose to her feet, and a second later she was teleported down to the heart of the arena with the other contestants.

"I accept the nomination," she called, the moment she had rematerialised. "I will stand as Stormwind's champion."

She then walked over to stand by Varian's side, straight backed and proud, and together they took their place in the now-completed line-up of champions. In sum, they made for a rather intimidating group of people, and certainly not a group Anduin would relish facing in a fight. He did not know enough about duelling or arena matches to know who might stand the best chance of winning the Tournament, but in that moment he realised he was actually rather keen to find out.

Tirion Fordring, too, seemed very impressed by the calibre of the contenders arrayed before him. He studied them all with a critical eye as he paced along the line, almost as if he were inspecting troop of his own Argent Crusaders, but there was distinct sense of satisfaction in his posture and fervour in his voice as he offered them a few last words of encouragement.

"Champions!" he cried. "Together, you represent some of the finest and noblest warriors that Azeroth has to offer. Fight with courage, and with honour, and above all, remember that while we have come together in the spirit of honest competition, what matters most are the bonds of friendship and unity that this Tournament will forge."

He paused, and his discerning gaze flicked briefly up towards the stands.

"And to those of you watching I will say only this - enjoy the show. Let the Grand Tournament begin!"

Fordring finished his speech by inclining his head towards the competitors in a gesture of sincere respect, before ceding the floor back to the two announcers so that they might conclude the ceremony.

"Well, there you have it, folks! Your Tournament champions!" Jax Boomsprocket shouted, waving a hand towards the line of contenders and prompting another round of warm applause from the crowd.

"What a lineup, Jax!" Tink agreed, her white-blonde head bobbing up and down with great enthusiasm. "I know you love a little wager - where would _you_ place your money?"

"Well, we have a lot of fine teams out here today, Tink, but my money's on the orcs. If I know anything about arena, _that's_ the team to watch," Jax raved, slapping his thigh with a broad palm.

"Bold of you to assume you know anything about arena," Tink said primly, to a round of raucous laughter from the crowd.

"Oh yeah?" Jax snorted, shooting his co-host a good-natured grin. "Who's your pick, then?"

"The team from Stormwind," Tink replied, without hesitation. "King Wrynn's arena record speaks for itself, and rumour has it his wife is some kind of unkillable berserker demon."

Down in the arena, Varian and Auriana exchanged a pointed look, and Anduin could have sworn that his father was trying not to laugh. He would not do so in public, of course, not when they were both on full display before the Alliance and the Horde, but he had no doubt that they would discuss her dubious new epithet in private later on.

"You make a good point, Tink," Jax said sagely, "Though as we all know, _anything_ can happen in the arena! The moment our fighters hit that floor, all bets are off - which is why it's all so damn exciting!"

The goblin licked his lips, and even at this distance, Anduin could practically _feel_ him humming in anticipation of the matches to come.

"We kick off the fighting with Team Huojin versus Team Undermine this afternoon at two o'clock sharp!" he added, his hawkish eyes gleaming. "Be there, or be sorely disappointed for the rest of your life… cause this one is gonna be a _doozy._ "


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Anduin**

Upon conclusion of the opening ceremony, Anduin departed the arena with Auriana and Ridley both trailing close behind. Ridley was ostensibly in attendance as Auriana's personal bodyguard, but it was Anduin whom she followed back to his tent as Auriana diverted to meet up with Varian at the Alliance staging area, just outside the arena proper. Each team in the Tournament had been given a generous private tent in which to don their armour and rest between matches, along with access to healers, food, and drink. As Varian and Auriana were fighting third that afternoon against the team from Orgrimmar, they had decided to eat in their noonday meal down at the staging area, so as not to lose precious preparation time or risk being late for their match.

Anduin, on the other hand, was able to return to his makeshift quarters for a proper lunch, and he took his time to savour a hearty meal of roast chicken and winter vegetables, before he summoned Ridley and once again made his way back to the packed arena. There were only four matches to be played that afternoon, given that it was the first day of the Tournament, though there was still a great deal of anticipation in the air. Anduin was still not particularly enamoured of the idea of duelling as a form of entertainment, of course, but the pomp and excitement of the opening ceremony had been undeniably catching - and he certainly did not want to miss seeing Varian and Auriana fighting side by side. He knew that such a thing would mean a great deal to the both of them, Varian especially, and regardless of whether Anduin had any personal interest in arena fighting, he was determined to support his family.

To that end, he decided to make a quick detour to the Alliance staging area before resuming his seat in the stands; Ridley shadowing his every move. The entire area was bustling with activity, and for a brief moment Anduin despaired of ever locating his father or Auriana in the chaos. Fortunately, he soon noticed that the champion's tents were each decorated with the crests of their respective teams, and he found the familiar golden lion of Stormwind in no time at all. He coughed once to announce his presence outside the tent, before stepping inside to find Varian and Auriana hard at work adjusting their armour in anticipation of the fight ahead.

"Anduin!" Varian exclaimed, breaking into an unusually ebullient grin at the sight of his only son. "How are you? Did you enjoy the opening ceremony?"

"I'm well, Father," Anduin said. "As for the opening ceremony, I found it very… suspenseful."

His last statement was directed at Auriana, who snorted in amusement and ducked her head to hide her smile. She had discarded her dress in favour of her wolf's head armour, and was now busy securing her gauntlets around her slender wrists. Her once loose hair had been pulled back into a tight braid that ran down the line of her back, and all in all Anduin thought she looked confident and well-prepared. His father, too, looked similarly imposing in his own distinctive armour; the two of them together making for quite the striking pair.

"Are you nervous?" Anduin asked.

Varian scoffed, as if the idea of him being nervous were patently ridiculous, though he nevertheless shared a quick glance with Auriana.

"I don't think I'm nervous, precisely," she replied, "Though I won't deny that my heart is beating a little faster than usual."

"Saurfang and Aggra are certainly a strong team… but then again, so are you," Anduin said, offering her an encouraging smile.

"I'm confident we can win. Though I did hear a rumour that Rehgar was here," Varian noted, his eyebrows knitting in a thoughtful frown. "If that's the case, we might be at a bit of a disadvantage. He knows how I fight."

Rehgar Earthfury was the orc arena master who had owned Varian, Broll Bearmantle and Valeera Sanguinar during their time as gladiators in the Crimson Ring. He had later retired from life as a gladiatorial master to join the Earthen Ring, and had served as one of Thrall's advisors when he had still been Warchief of the Horde. Anduin knew that his father's relationship with Rehgar had been complex, to say the least, though it seemed Varian still carried at least some measure of respect for the shaman. From what he had described, Rehgar had been as good a master as a gladiator could hope to have, though Anduin wasn't sure how he personally felt about someone willing to own slaves, even if Rehgar had later abandoned the practice.

"He hasn't seen you fight in years," Auriana countered. "And he's never seen _me_."

She walked over to Varian's side, and quickly and expertly began to adjust the straps that held his breastplate in place. His wolfish gaze tracked her every move, and he seemed to rather enjoy having her fuss over him. Not that he would ever admit such a thing, of course, but the thought made Anduin smile.

"We'll give them a run for their money, if nothing else," Varian agreed. "Saurfang is starting to get on in years, and Aggra lacks your..."

Whatever his last few words would have been, they were drowned out by a sudden swell of cheering and applause coming from the direction of the arena. It was so loud that Anduin was almost tempted to cover his ears, and he couldn't imagine how deafening it might have been had he actually been in the arena proper.

"Sounds like they're almost ready for the first match," Varian observed, raising his voice in an effort to be heard above the racket.

He finished adjusting his enormous pauldrons, and shot a sly, sidelong look in Anduin's direction.

"I expect to see you cheering for Stormwind…"

"Of course. I considered putting my money on the tauren… but you _are_ my father, after all. I wouldn't want to be rude," Anduin teased, prompting a spectacularly deep scowl from Varian and a peal of bright laughter from Auriana.

"You won't be cheering for anyone if you don't get moving," she pointed out, as another thunderous cheer shook the canvas walls of the tent. "They'll be starting any minute."

Anduin grinned.

"Good luck, then," he said, more seriously. "And try not to get yourselves into _too_ much trouble…"

* * *

After leaving the tent, it took Anduin some time to find his way through the crowd, even with Ridley's expert assistance, and he made it back to the Stormwind box just as the contestants for the first match entered the arena. Much to his surprise, however, he would not be sitting alone. The two centre seats had been already occupied: one by a stately half-elven man with striking blue hair, and the other by one of Anduin's favourite people in all of Azeroth.

"Aunt Jaina! Kalec! I wasn't sure if you would come," Anduin beamed, happily taking his place next to his beloved 'aunt'.

They had both been invited, of course, but given Jaina's reluctance to involve the Kirin Tor in the Tournament, he had wondered whether she might abstain.

"Hello, Prince Anduin. It is good to see you once again," Kalec smiled, though Jaina's expression was considerably cooler.

She looked tired, as if she had not slept properly in a week, and Anduin did not miss the way she leaned her shoulder into Kalec for support.

"The Kirin Tor have an important role to play in this Tournament. As Archmage, it's only proper that I attend," she murmured.

Her tone was clipped and her posture tense, though there was still visible interest in her eyes as she surveyed the arena floor. Anduin understood that being at the Tournament was difficult for her, after everything that had happened at Theramore, but he was thankful to learn that she had not entirely given up on her dreams of peace.

"Well, no matter the reason, I'm glad you're here," he said sincerely, reaching out to squeeze one of her hands.

That, at least, earned him a smile, and after a few moments of silent contemplation, Jaina sighed and forcefully rolled some of the coiled tension from her shoulders. She was still willing to try, it seemed, and that was all Anduin could ever ask.

"How are Auriana and your father?" she asked, some of her natural warmth returning to her voice. "It was the first thing we heard when we entered the Alliance camp - 'the King and Queen are fighting'!"

"Yes, your people seemed to be quite excited by the prospect," Kalec concurred, though it was clear he didn't quite understand why.

"Well, I would imagine Varian's very excited to get back into the arena. And with Auriana at his side, no less," Jaina added.

"You know how they are," Anduin chuckled. "Getting all dirty and bloody is their idea of a good time. Not something I understand myself, but it seems to suit them well enough."

"Quite," Jaina agreed, with a bemused shake of her head. "You know, only Varian would seek to secure peace on Azeroth by beating everyone else into submission."

"So far it seems to be working, at least," Anduin noted, gesturing to the amiable crowd in the stands behind them. "Though I suppose we'll see how long that lasts once the actual fighting starts."

Jaina nodded.

"Indeed we shall. Speaking of which - who is fighting first? We arrived a bit later than I had planned, and didn't have the chance to obtain a programme."

"The Horde Pandaren and the goblins," Anduin replied. "Oh, look - here they come!"

The first two teams entered the arena to great fanfare, and after a few minutes of conference with the stern-faced Argent referee, the match began. Even though the Tournament was played under a strict set of rules and with blunted weapons, Anduin was surprised at how physically intense and brutal the combat turned out to be. As Auriana had predicted, while the contestants were careful not to stray beyond the bounds of the Tournament rules, they otherwise held nothing back. The first match saw blood drawn within the first minute, when Ji Firepaw managed to close in range of the goblin hunter and deal him a cracking tiger palm to the nose. Unfortunately for the Pandaren, however, the goblin team's extensive arena experience eventually won out, and they won their first victory with a combination of clever positioning and focused teamwork. Evidently, while Livvy Boltstorm didn't appear to have any affection for her co-champion, she would do whatever it took to win.

The second match was between Gilneas and Gnomeregan, leaving Anduin with quite the dilemma. He was eager to see a battle priest achieve victory, but at the same time he had close ties to Gilneas through his friendships Genn and Tess. Initially, he found himself cheering for the little gnome priestess, amazed by the way she bent the Light to her will to alternately punish or protect, though by the end of the match he was fully behind team Gilneas.

Barrett Arnes may have generally carried himself with the air of a lazy dog more interested in lounging in the sunshine than hunting, but the moment the match began, he proved himself to be a clever and unflappable contestant. He was particularly adept at using his arrows to force the gnome champions to move wherever he pleased - which in this case, was inevitably towards the slashing daggers of his rogue teammate.

Lillian acquitted herself with equal distinction, leaping about the arena with a speed and dexterity that thrilled the crowd, and after a tense, protracted battle, the Gilneans finally emerged victorious. Barrett acknowledged the win with little more than a smug twist of his muzzle, but Lillian was far more effusive. She waved and smiled up at the clamorous crowd with far more enthusiasm than Anduin would have ever expected - though her charismatic showmanship was nowhere near as surprising as what she did next. Her glowing eyes lit up as they swept over the Stormwind box, and Anduin suddenly found himself the centre of the crowd's attention - and amusement - as she puckered her canine lips and wriggled her claws coquettishly in his direction.

Anduin blanched.

He had met Lillian several times, and while he had found her perfectly amiable, he considered them friendly acquaintances at best. He certainly didn't think they were close enough to warrant her blowing air kisses at him in public, though he was now very concerned that he had _wildly_ misinterpreted the nature of their relationship.

"Something you want to tell me, Anduin?" Jaina smirked, as the worgen at last departed the arena. "I would have thought she was a bit too old for you, but I suppose the heart wants what it wants..."

"I… I'm not… she's not… look, believe me, I'm as confused as you are," he stammered.

He looked to Kalec for support, but the dragonlord merely gave him an enigmatic smile.

"She seems to feel differently," Jaina pointed out, barely keeping her smile in check. "I've never kissed a worgen - tell me, is it scratchy?"

"Aunt Jaina!" Anduin protested, feeling his cheeks blaze red with embarrassment.

He hadn't really spent that much time thinking about kissing worgen - or anyone at all, for that matter. Besides which, even if he _had_ , Jaina was probably one of the last people on Azeroth he would want to talk about it with, second only to Auriana, Genn, and the most nightmarish possibility of all, his _father_.

"Come now, Anduin, what are aunts for, if not to tease you about this sort of thing?" Jaina laughed, her pale blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

Luckily, Anduin was spared the necessity of having to answer Jaina's rather impertinent questions by the sudden blare of the heralds horn announcing the arrival of the contestants for the third match of the day. The crowd immediately went ballistic, and Anduin knew there was little point in trying to talk to her further, even if he had any idea what to say. While the the crowd had enjoyed the first two fights immensely, it was another thing entirely to see a clash between the living legends representing Stormwind and Orgrimmar, and they soon forgot Lillian's antics as they turned their full attention to the match at hand.

"Choose your weapons!"

Upon the referee's order, Varian silently selected a two-handed greatsword, while Saurfang opted for the largest axe available. Aggra indicated her choice of elements by calling magma and lightning to her hands, before Auriana completed the pre-match ritual by summoning a burst of bright white frost to her fingertips. Anduin wasn't sure what kind of strategy went into the selection of weapons and magic for each fight, though he assumed that Auriana and his father had _some_ kind of plan. They had trained together regularly ever since she had returned from Draenor, but now that Anduin knew Varian had planned to fight with her in the Tournament all along, their most recent private sessions now took on a new meaning.

An eerie hush fell over the crowd as the four combatants took their places around the ring in anticipation of the start of the match, and Anduin felt the hairs on the back of neck rise. Standing next to Varian and two orcs, Auriana looked even smaller than she usually did, though she did not seem perturbed by her comparative lack of physical stature. Her face was set and emotionless, save only for the slightest narrowing of her eyes as she assessed her competition. Directly across the floor,Aggra wore an expression of cool confidence, a slight twitch in the fingers of her left hand the only concession to her nerves, while Varian and Saurfang stood as uncanny mirrors of one another. They appeared less as man and orc, and more as two bristling alpha predators spoiling for a fight, though neither one of them would dare move before given the signal to engage.

The referee raised his hand.

The crowd inhaled.

The flag dropped… and all manner of mayhem broke loose.

Unlike the previous two matches, where the champions had mostly worked together in pairs, the teams from Stormwind and Orgrimmar chose to fight man to man. Varian was the fastest to react to the referee's signal, leaping clear across the floor to slam into Saurfang with such force that Anduin felt the echo of the collision rattle through his bones. Saurfang answered Varian's aggression with a bellowing roar, and swept his axe up so that they came body to body; their mighty muscles straining as they clashed and broke apart and clashed again. Both men were legendary warriors at the peak of their skill, and from the moment their blades met, they proceeded to put on an absolute masterclass in armsmanship.

On the other side of the floor, Auriana and Aggra had been swept up in a similarly frantic duel, slinging frost and magma at one another with a ferocity that had to be seen to be believed. Anduin had trained with Auriana many times over the years, but in watching her engage Aggra, he at long last understood just how much she had been holding back. He wasn't so naïve as to believe that she had ever fought him at full force, but even then it seemed he had still sorely underestimated the degree to which she had been pulling her punches. She was incredibly fast, too, far faster than he had remembered, and yet somehow she never moved any more than was strictly necessary. Even when Aggra began hurling chunks of flaming rock almost as large as Auriana herself, she deigned only to take the smallest of steps to the side. The deadly projectiles missed her by mere inches every time, and yet she never so much as flinched.

All together, it was an outstanding display of power and mastery, and the action was so relentless that Anduin sometimes didn't know where to look. The moment he turned to Auriana and Aggra, Varian or Saurfang would perform some incredible feat of strength and dexterity, only for the two women to pull focus back with their own similarly jaw-dropping magical efforts.

The announcers, too, were struggling to keep up with the relentless pace of the fight; both of them forced to speak so quickly that Anduin wasn't entirely sure how they could breathe.

"Varian Wrynn slashes right, ducks to the left, and - _ooh_! That had to have _hurt_!" Tink exclaimed, her voice rising an octave in sympathy as Varian spun on his heel to deal Saurfang a cracking blow across the back.

The mighty orc stumbled, but a single strike would not be enough to defeat a warrior of the calibre of Varok Saurfang. He used the momentum of his fall to slide on one knee through the dirt, before twisting around to slash viciously at Varian's shins. It was a wild swing, but Anduin understood that it was not Saurfang's intent to make contact. He sought only to force Varian backwards, to buy himself time so that he might spring back to his feet and re-engage.

"And Saurfang recovers! Amazing!" Jax bellowed, his voice shaking with adrenaline and excitement. "We promised you a clash for ages, folks, and these teams are here to _deliver_!"

"Any other fighter would be dead to rights, but it'll take more than that to beat the Overlord!" Tink agreed, slapping her tiny hand against the edge of the announcer's booth. "He has to be one of… wait - what's this?"

Tink's attention was diverted away from Varian and Saurfang as Auriana abruptly blinked forward, reappearing so close to Aggra that they were standing face to face - or, given Auriana's height, face to chest. Anduin hadn't noticed at first, but throughout the course of the fight, Auriana had been slowly shepherding Aggra back towards the arena wall. She had not done so in a way that was too fast, or too obvious, but she had slowly and carefully stripped Aggra of any room to move - and with her sudden, aggressive blink, the trap was sprung.

Auriana raised her right hand, and shot Aggra point-blank in the face with a swirling cone of cold. It wasn't the most powerful spell she was capable of casting, but it was enough to temporarily blind the orc shaman and send her stumbling backwards. Unfortunately for Aggra, she had underestimated both Auriana's speed and her own closeness to the wall, and she staggered to one side as she inadvertently cracked the back of her head against the stonework.

Against any other opponent, she might have had a chance to recover, but Auriana was both swift and relentless. She followed up the short range blast with a flurry of deadly ice lances, the force of the repeated impacts enough to force Aggra to her knees. The orc shaman did her best to raise a weak earth shield in her defense, but it would not be enough to hold of a rampaging Auriana. She stepped back, and a flash of triumph gleaming in her eyes, and unleashed one of the largest and most brutal glacial spikes Anduin had ever seen.

If it had been a real battle, there was no doubt that Aggra would have been skewered straight through, but as it was, her shield crumpled away into nothing, and she buckled beneath the sheer weight of the spell's impact.

"And Aggra goes _down_! A valiant effort, but not enough to beat Stormwind's mighty mage Queen!" Tink yelped.

A flash of light immediately enveloped Aggra's body, and she was teleported off the arena floor and into the champion's holding area to await the conclusion of the match. Which, Anduin assumed, would now come quickly, given that Saurfang was outnumbered two to one. The crowd's screaming doubled in intensity, and Anduin felt his breath catch in his throat as Auriana turned away from the site of her own conquest to advance upon Varian and Saurfang's position.

"The Queen of Stormwind raises her hands!" Tink shrieked, her voice cracking as her excitement reached fever pitch. "She's going to glacial spike Saurfang in the back! She's going to spike him for the win! She's going to… she's going to... surrender? What the _hell_?"

Much to the utter disbelief of Tink, Jax, and every single other person in the stands, Auriana did not release a spell, but instead placed her hands firmly behind her head and took two steps backwards. Evidently, it was a signal to the referee that she was forfeiting her place in the match, though he was initially slow to react, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Eventually, however, he gave the signal to the Kirin Tor mages, who teleported Auriana off the floor and into the holding area alongside Aggra.

"What is she _doing_?!" Jax screamed. "She just gave up a guaranteed victory! Do they have a game plan? By my Aunt Muffy's mechano-hog, _what the hell is going on_?"

As Auriana rematerialised, Aggra shot her a questioning look, but Auriana simply shrugged. A slight smile pulled at the corner of her lips, and she looked unnervingly nonchalant as she leaned up against the railing of the holding area to watch the end of the match. She was dirty and sweaty and panting, but otherwise her gaze was bright and clear, and she did not at all look like a woman who had just thrown away a critical victory.

Out on the floor, Varian and Saurfang broke apart for a few moments of much needed air; the orc warrior grinding his tusks as his eyes darted worriedly about the arena. It was clear that he suspected some sort of foul play, but he could not afford to take his eyes off Varian for more than a second. For his part, Varian also risked a quick glance away; his ravening gaze falling immediately upon Auriana. She gave him a short, encouraging nod as their eyes met, and Anduin let out a short gasp of understanding. Auriana was not throwing the match, but rather giving his father a chance to face Saurfang one on one in honourable combat. She would be well within her rights to finish the orc off and claim the victory, but if she did, Varian would be left forever wondering whether he could have beaten the High Overlord on his own.

It was a considerable risk to take, given Saurfang's extraordinary skill, but if there was one thing Anduin knew his father would never do, it was fail in front of Auriana. Varian loved her far too dearly, and he would rather have died than let her down; especially not after she had shown such enormous trust in his abilities. Something deep in his scarred eyes shifted, and in that moment Anduin saw his father simply _decide_ that it was time to win - not for Stormwind, or the Alliance, or even for himself… but for _her_.

Lo'Gosh had been unleashed, and nothing short of victory was acceptable.

While both Varian and Saurfang were soaked in sweat and breathing heavily, Auriana's act of faith inspired a burst of fresh energy in Varian, and he fell on Saurfang with renewed vigour. The orc warrior was his superior in both height and weight, and thus far had been using both to his advantage… but Varian was much faster and far more cunning, and now fighting for something far greater than himself.

Anduin had always known that his father was a great warrior, but it was another thing entirely to watch Varian working at very limits of his ability. He was all muscle and fury and pure nerve; the the soul of the wolf with the body - and mind - of a great man. He was fierce and wild, but not so much so as to be blinded by his own ferocity, and his gaze remained sharp and calculating as he visibly altered his strategy to take advantage of Saurfang's weaknesses. He shifted away from trying to meet Saurfang blow for blow, instead punishing the bulky orc with a series of rapidfire strikes to the torso and thighs. His sword moved as if it was an extension of his arm, flashing this way and that with dazzling speed, and little by little, Anduin saw the tiring Overlord begin to give way.

Varian had become fury incarnate, barely giving Saurfang chance to breathe or swing his great axe, and with a last great effort, he finally overwhelmed the orc's defenses. He faked to the left, punishing Saurfang with an elbow to the face when the orc moved to follow, before twisting his greatsword back around behind his head and bringing it crashing down against Saurfang's shoulder. The proud orc staggered, and with a savage, primal howl, Varian ripped his sword across the entire breadth of his chest in a decisive victory blow.

"Stormwind! Stormwind is victorious!" Jax hollered, knocking his own top hat off his head as he threw his hands in the air. "Varian Wrynn is the last champion standing! _Unbelievable_!"

Even with magical enhancement of his voice, he was barely able to be heard over the deafening din of the crowd. They were cheering and clapping and stamping their feet, and Anduin happily added his own voice to the mix as they rained their approval down upon his father. Even Jaina was excitedly clapping along, looking far livelier than Anduin had seen her in a good long while, and as he stared at the delighted faces all around him, he began to believe that the Tournament really could unite the Alliance and the Horde in the way they all hoped.

Down on the arena floor, Varian lifted a single hand in acknowledgement of the crowd's praise, but he was not the kind of man who wallowed in adoration. Instead, he extended his hand to Saurfang and pulled the orc back to his feet, and after a few quiet words, the two great warriors clasped forearms in a gesture of deep respect. Saurfang was well known for his sense of honour, and Anduin doubted he would begrudge losing such a close and well-fought match. His skill had been plain for the entire world to see, and while he and Aggra had been unable to secure a victory in this instance, they could both walk away with their heads held high.

The crowd continued to cheer as Varian loped across the arena to the holding area, and reached over the barrier to grab Auriana by the waist. Her face broke into a wide grin as he lifted her high into the air and out of the holding area, before crushing her against his chest and spinning her about with her boots a good two feet off the ground. Auriana was not usually one for such public displays of affection, but she was absolutely beaming as Varian twirled her around and around to the roaring approval of the crowd.

Eventually, both the humans and the orcs departed the arena, disappearing through the side gates to return to their respective staging areas. Anduin then bid a quick farewell to Jaina and Kalec, deciding not to stay around to watch the fourth match. A fight between the dwarves of Ironforge and the rogues of Undercity would certainly be an interesting spectacle, but he was eager to congratulate Varian and Auriana on their momentous victory in person.

As Anduin entered returned the staging area, however, he was struck by a sudden sense of curiosity, and he turned away from the golden lion sigil of Stormwind to the darker crest of the Gilnean tent. He rapped on one of the tent posts to make his presence known, but did not immediately receive a summons or reply. He could nevertheless hear the sound of people moving inside, and after a few minutes of awkward hovering, he dispensed with waiting and simply stepped inside - and straight into one of the stranger scenes he'd ever witnessed.

Barrett Arnes stood in the back corner of the tent; chewing idly on the end of a long pipe as his hunting hawk preened imperiously on one of his shoulders. Valeera Sanguinar, of all people, stood on the opposite side, her attention firmly fixed upon the two female worgen standing in the very centre of the small space. They were both thoroughly occupied with the left-hand worgen's armour - which in itself was not a strange thing, if not for the fact that they were completely identical; from the lightened fur around their muzzles to the exact sheen of the leather on on their boots.

Anduin blinked, certain that he had to be seeing double, when the left-hand worgen looked up and bared her teeth in a broad smile.

"Oh, hello, Anduin," she said brightly, her demeanour once again not at all in keeping with what he might have expected.

"Er… Lillian?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness," said the right-hand worgen, nervously champing her flews.

The left-hand worgen's smile broadened, and she gave him a saucy little wink.

"Wait a minute… _Tess_?" Anduin exclaimed.

It was quite impossible, though he could not think of a better explanation. Tess was not worgen, unless she had somehow fallen victim to the curse since the last time they had seen one another, but there was no other person on Azeroth who would sass him quite like _that_ \- or dare to flirt with him while standing in the middle of a packed arena. The sly, cocky grin was definitely hers, too, even if the form was most definitely not.

"I… how… what are you _doing_?" Anduin stammered, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Milking a cow. What does it _look_ like I'm doing, Anduin?"

She rolled her eyes at him with supreme disdain, and continued unstrapping her armour.

"That was _you_ in the arena just now," Anduin realised. "Tess…"

"Do _not_ lecture me, Anduin Wrynn," she growled, her false worgen form making her sound even more intimidating than she usually did. "I know what I'm doing."

A million different questions raced through Anduin's mind, but after a few moments of awkward stammering and a pointed smirk from Tess, he finally managed to get something out.

"I… I didn't even know you could fight..."

Tess bared her teeth in a self-satisfied grin, and flexed her muscles beneath her duplicated armour.

"I asked Lillian here to teach me - in secret, naturally, but we've been training together for almost a year now. When Valeera showed up in Stormwind for your father's wedding, I asked for her expertise, as well."

Tess and Valeera exchanged a look, and the slender blood elf inclined her head in an approving nod. Much like Tess, she looked very pleased with herself, though Anduin was not quite so impressed by their little plan.

"I assume your father has no idea," he sighed wearily.

"Of course not," Tess said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He'd have a heart attack."

"He should not be so concerned. The Princess has the potential to become an exceptionally fine shadowblade," Valeera confirmed, much to Tess' evident delight.

"I'm not sure that's the point, Valeera. I - "

"You're not going to tell my father, are you?" Tess interrupted, fixing Anduin with her most imperious glare. "Or worse, _yours_?"

A faint flicker of concern crossed her face, and Anduin realised that beneath all her sass and bluster, she was afraid of her father's reaction. Not because Genn would ever _hurt_ her, of course, but because she feared losing something that clearly meant a great deal more to her than she was prepared to admit.

"You know I'd never tell," he murmured, softening despite himself. "But… why the Tournament?"

"Because it's fun," Tess quipped, arching a bushy worgen brow.

"Tess…"

Anduin spoke quietly but firmly, refusing to be denied a proper explanation. Tess was far too clever not to understand the enormous risk she had taken by orchestrating the switch, and he very much doubted she would do such a thing purely for the sake of fun.

"Fine. If you must know…"

Tess lowered her voice, and shot a self-conscious look towards Lillian and Barrett. She was one of the most confident people Anduin had ever met - if not downright cocky at times - but he had always suspected that at least _some_ of her bravado was a front. He had seen a flash of genuine fear when she had mentioned her father's likely reaction, and as she began to speak, she looked as thoughtful and as vulnerable as Anduin had ever seen her.

"I have spent my entire life hidden away," Tess said slowly, choosing her words with great care. "Hidden behind the Wall; behind my father; hidden in the shadow of my brother… I am the heir to the Gilnean throne, but how can I be a good queen if I have never stood upon my own two feet? How can I ask Gilneans to fight for me if I can't fight for them? How do I expect to _survive_ in this world if I can't protect myself?"

Anduin did not immediately reply, thrown by her honesty and the uncharacteristic depth of feeling in her voice. While their situations were not identical, her speech was a stark reminder of the fact that she was one of the few people currently alive who also understood what it was to be the heir to a great kingdom. Anduin knew all too well what it felt like to live in the shadow of a celebrated hero and king, and to so desperately want to be one's own person in a world of complex demands and expectations.

"I understand what it's like to want to find your own place," he murmured finally, full of sympathy. "More than almost anyone, Tess, I understand... but surely there's another…"

Before Anduin could finish his sentence, the tent flap opened without warning, and his heart leapt into his throat as Auriana stepped inside. She had changed back into the blue dress she had worn to the opening ceremony, though her hair was still sweaty and dishevelled from her fight - and she did not look at all impressed.

"Hello, Tess," she said drily. "Or should I call you 'Lillian'?"

All eyes turned to Tess, and for a brief moment Anduin thought she might attempt to deny the allegation. Both Lillian and Barrett stood up straighter, suddenly guilty and self-conscious before the Queen of Stormwind, while Valeera's shoulders visibly tensed. Tess lift her chin imperiously, ready to argue, but after a only few seconds beneath Auriana's withering glare, she correctly surmised that there was little point.

"How did you know it was me?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "The illusion is perfect."

Auriana bit her lip, and tilted her head to the left in a strange little gesture that Anduin had learned meant she was working hard to rein in her anger. He knew she would never lose control in front of him or Tess - or any other innocent bystanders, for that matter - but her displeasure radiated off her like heat.

"I've seen Lillian train in the yards, with the rest of the Gilnean guard. She's left-handed," she explained, her voice clipped. "The rogue I watched in the arena today favoured her right."

"Dammit..." Tess huffed. "How did we not think of that?"

She and Valeera exchanged a look, and Barrett let out a derisive snort.

"I told you it wouldn't work…" he muttered.

Auriana did not so much look in his direction; her focus - and her ire - instead firmly fixed on Tess.

"Once I realised a switch had been made, it occured to me that there was only one Gilnean foolhardy enough to do such a thing," she growled. "How? You're not worgen."

Tess rankled at the word 'foolhardy', and her clawed hands clenched into fists. Anduin knew she all but idolised Auriana as the prime example of a powerful warrior woman, though he doubted Auriana had any idea. Coming from someone Tess admired, such censure must have hurt, but she pressed on in her typically bold and defiant manner.

"A Potion of Illusion, and a crafted set of armour that matched Lillian's."

Tess withdrew two vials from a hidden pocket with her armour and held them up for Auriana to see. One was empty, a few drops of pale green liquid still clinging to the inside of the glass, and the second filled with a swirling white concoction. Tess uncorked the second bottle and drank the contents, and within less than a minute, she had resumed her normal appearance.

"The dampening field only prevents new magic from being cast. It doesn't affect existing enchantments, like hearthstones, wards, and potions - as I'm sure you're well aware," Tess added, unable to keep a small smirk of self-satisfaction from pulling at her lips.

"Very clever," Auriana said flatly. "Perhaps if you had been a bit _more_ clever, you would not have done something so utterly irresponsible. Do you have _any_ idea what would happen if your little switch was discovered?"

Anduin was somewhat taken aback by her vehemence and the ring of command in her voice - and just how much she sounded like his father. Between her small stature and natural shyness, it was easy to forget sometimes that she was a hardened battlefield officer, and not one who readily tolerated foolishness.

"I'm a skilled fighter! I wasn't going to get hurt," Tess protested, the colour rising in her cheeks.

"You?! This isn't about _you_ , Tess. How do you think the Horde would react if they knew that you and Lillian had swapped places?" Auriana snapped, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "After all, if we're willing to ignore champion selection and flout the rules preventing the use of magic, what else might we do? Cheat? Lie? Use the Tournament as a front to assassinate a Warchief? The possibilities are really quite endless - or at least the Horde would think so."

Tess deflated, and Anduin realised that in her concern over her father and his reaction, she had entirely failed to consider the more far-reaching consequences of her plan. She was clever, certainly, but in this case it seemed her cooler head had been overridden by her impetuousness and her fierce desire to become a respected warrior.

"I… I didn't think…"

"No. You didn't. And now your actions have jeopardised relations between the Alliance and the Horde, as well as the reputation of both your father and your people."

Auriana let out a weary sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose. There was a distinctly personal tone to her anger, which was understandable given how hard she had worked so hard to ensure that the Tournament would succeed. She liked Tess, Anduin knew, but it was evidently not enough to temper her disappointment.

"I… I only wanted to prove that I could," Tess whispered miserably. "I tried to convince my father to let me fight as champion, but he refused."

It was strange seeing her look so dejected, and Anduin couldn't help but to feel for her. Valeera, too, appeared similarly affected, and her green eyes gleamed with compassion and she moved to speak in Tess' defense

"If I could interject…" she started.

"I wouldn't," Auriana snapped.

Her piercing gaze left Tess for the first time, and she turned her furious glare on Valeera and the two chagrined worgen.

"How did you get roped into this, anyway?"

"Varian and Broll are both fighting as champions," Valeera said simply, her full lips pursing in a reproachful pout.

She said nothing further, as if that alone was sufficient to explain everything, but Anduin thought he might have understood. As a blood elf, she couldn't fight for Stormwind or Darnassus, but considering her personal loyalties to the Wrynn family and her independence from the Thalassian government, she wouldn't have been made an offer by Silvermoon, either. Given her close friendship with Varian and Broll, and the fact that their bond had been formed in the Crimson Ring, it must have vexed her greatly to watch the two of them fight in the arena without her. Acting as a personal mentor to Tess may have been her only real chance to participate in the Tournament, even if it was not quite the same as fighting herself.

"And you two?"

Lillian and Barrett both shifted uncomfortably, and after a few seconds of silent argument between them, it was Barrett who finally spoke.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, have _you_ ever tried to refuse Her Highness?"

Auriana nodded in understanding, though it didn't make her look any happier.

"So you abused your royal powers for personal gain. This just gets better and better…"

"You can't tell my Father," Tess implored, abandoning all pretense. "Please, Your Majesty. The only people who know about this are in this tent. If he finds out, he'll lock me up until I'm _forty_."

"Please, Auri," Anduin echoed, earning himself a grateful look from Tess. "She made a mistake, but as of right now there's no harm done. I'm not usually one to advocate for lying, but I think in this case telling the truth would do more harm than good."

Auriana opened her mouth to reply, but seemed to think better of it at the last moment. Instead, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, and when she finally opened them again her expression was cooler, though somehow not any less dangerous.

"I'm not going to tell your father. I'm not going to tell _anyone's_ father, for that matter," she said evenly, with a quick glance in Anduin's direction. "In fact, I'm not going to do a damn thing - except to remind you that Gilneas' next match in the draw is against Stormwind."

"I… what?"

Whatever Tess had been expecting Auriana to say, it clearly hadn't been that.

"You're fighting against me and Varian next," Auriana said brightly, the left corner of her lips pulling upwards in an unsettling, predatory smile.

All traces of her earlier anger vanished in an instant, and she now appeared positively genial. The sudden change was far from comforting, however, and Anduin was clearly not the only one in the tent who had noticed. Valeera stood up straighter, her green eyes narrowing, while Lillian took an inadvertent step backwards. For her part, Tess' dark brows drew together in a confused frown, and she looked across at Anduin for clarification - as if he were any less bewildered than she. He shrugged.

"I… well… I mean… good! I look forward to fighting you," Tess mumbled, stumbling over the words as she struggled to comprehend Auriana's abrupt change in manner.

"And I you!" Auriana enthused. "In fact, I honestly can't wait to give you an authentic arena experience. That _is_ what you wanted, is it not?"

Tess' frown deepened.

"An… an authentic area experience?" she repeated warily, folding her arms across her chest.

"Of course. You came here to fight, did you not? It would disrespectful of me to hold back," Auriana said seriously.

 _Ah_ , Anduin thought. _So that was it._

Auriana was clever enough to have realised that the more she told Tess not to do something, the more the feisty Gilnean princess would push back. Instead, she had chosen to give Tess a choice - withdraw, or face the force of Auriana's wrath. Anduin was confident that Auriana would never do Tess any real or lasting harm, but she was clearly willing to show Tess exactly what fighting in the arena truly meant - blood, sweat, tears and all.

"I watched your match against Aggra…" Tess said slowly, a hint of doubt creeping into her tone. "I've never see anyone fight like that."

"Oh, that?" Auriana beamed. "I was just warming up. I haven't fought a one-on-one duel in quite some time, it takes a bit of remembering. I'm sure I'll be much more convincing in my second match."

She dismissed Tess' compliment with a blithe wave of her hand, as if defeating one of the strongest shaman in the world was a trifling, everyday occurrence. Her expression was unnervingly friendly, but the promise of great violence glinted in her dark blue eyes. She stared at Tess unblinking, until the younger woman could meet her gaze no longer, and looked away. Auriana nodded to herself, satisfied, and gave Tess one last chilling smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she added, before stalking from the tent and leaving naught but a tense silence in her wake.

"She's terrifying," Tess said finally, her brown eyes wide. "No one that small has a right to be that terrifying."

Not a single person in the room challenged her observation. Even Valeera looked somewhat intimidated, though Anduin could tell she was doing her best to hide the fact.

"I shall have to figure out how she does it," Tess added.

"Maybe she can teach you. But in the meantime… what do you intend to do?" Anduin

Tess bit her lip, and screwed up her nose in a thoughtful expression.

"You don't _really_ think she'd go out of her way to give me a thrashing… do you?"

"Honestly... I wouldn't put it past her," Anduin admitted. "She's here to win, and she's not going to go easy on you. She'll treat you just as she would any other champion."

Tess nodded silently, and Anduin could practically _see_ the wheels inside her head turning as she considered her options. She wanted to fight, but it was clear that she feared exposing herself to the full force of Auriana's magic - and perhaps worse, feared proving herself to be woefully outmatched. Tess was a brave, confident young woman… but it took a lot more than simple bravery to step into the arena and fight one of the most powerful mages alive, in full view of hundreds and hundreds of people.

"Upon careful reflection, I have decided it is in the best interests of the Tournament that I allow Lillian to take her rightful place in the arena. I would not want to jeopardise our diplomatic relations, after all," she declared finally, as if withdrawing had been her idea from the beginning.

"Or your face…" Anduin murmured, much to Barrett's amusement.

Tess shot the two of them a dirty look, but Anduin thought it worth it to see some of the spirit return to her eyes. She lifted her chin imperiously, and in a flash she was brash, sassy Tess once more.

"Hush, Anduin," she said primly. "Now make yourself useful and help me get out of this armour..."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Varian**

It was some time after the opening match before Varian's heart rate slowed to what might be considered a reasonable level. His thunderous pulse was not due to of a lack of fitness, of course, but rather the result of his eagerness to keep fighting. Duelling Saurfang had given him a special kind of thrill he hadn't known in years, and the wolf in his heart howled for _more_. He wanted to fight them all, the greatest warriors from both the Alliance and the Horde; wanted to win victory after victory until he was the last man standing, triumphant over an arena full of fallen champions…

But today was not that day.

With great effort, Varian had forced himself to follow Auriana from the arena and back to their tent in the Alliance staging grounds. His hands had been shaking with barely suppressed energy the entire time, and he had been forced to wait for several minutes before they had stilled sufficiently to allow him to remove his armour. Even then, it was slow going, and he fumbled over the leather straps of his pauldrons and chestplate several times before he managed to work them loose.

Auriana, on the other hand, seemed to have no such difficulty. She had divested herself of her armour with surprising swiftness, quickly swapping her dusty battle trappings for her warm woollen dress. Much to Varian's surprise, she had then swept from the tent in a blur of skirts, muttering under her breath about congratulating the worgen team on their victory. He also could have sworn she said something about wringing 'that little terror's' neck, but he was damned if he understood what she meant. Perhaps he had misheard.

If Varian had been faster, he might have stopped Auriana from leaving, but as it stood he was unable to untangle his fingers from the fastenings of his armour in time. He was admittedly surprised by her sudden departure after their nail-biting first match victory, and he hoped she would not be gone for long. In the heat of the moment, he had not given her decision to surrender all that much thought, but now that his blood had cooled, he was keen to discuss her rather _unorthodox_ battle tactics.

Varian had also wondered if Anduin might have come down to the staging area to offer his congratulations, but it seemed that the boy had been distracted by something far more interesting than his father. It was difficult for Varian to allow his son free rein to roam about the Tournament, but Anduin was now almost a man grown, and it wasn't fair for Varian to continue to treat him as if he were a child. He had made a silent promise to himself before the event that he would make a concerted effort to curb his overprotective tendencies, though it was far easier said than done. While the Tournament was off to a promising start, there was a part of Varian that would always see a threat in every shadow, especially when it came to his son...

A sudden rustle of the tent flap pulled him out of his thoughts, and a second later Auriana slipped back inside. Her cheeks were still flushed from their efforts in the arena, but despite her dishevelled hair and the faint glimmer of sweat and dust glimmering on her skin, Varian thought she looked beautiful.

"Did you find the Gilneans?" he asked, as he removed his right vambrace.

"Yes. They were very… grateful… for my support."

There was a strange clip in Auriana's voice that suggested that something more had happened in the Gilnean tent than a simple exchange of congratulations, but Varian knew her well enough to know that there was little point in pressing her further. Over time, he had come to recognise the precise downward tilt of her lips and the little crease in her forehead that indicated she had no intention of revealing what was on her mind. Varian had no desire to make her uncomfortable, especially not after they had won such a thrilling victory together in the arena, and so he quickly resolved to leave well enough alone.

"Come on, I'm hungry," he said instead, offering Auriana his arm so that he might lead her from the tent.

Varian left his armour behind for the squires to tend to at a later time, and together he and Auriana stepped out into the brisk afternoon air. The last match of the day must have finished in the time it had taken them to change, and the spectators who had packed the arena had now spilled out onto the Tournament grounds in an excited, chattering throng. The first day of competition had evidently inspired a great deal of debate and discussion - and most likely gambling, as well - and Varian had no doubt that the celebrations would continue well into the night.

A great cheer went up as he and Auriana exited the staging area, and they attracted more than their fair share of excitable shouts and whoops as they made their way back to the Alliance camp. Varian acknowledged their support with brief nods and waves, but he did not stop. He wanted to get Auriana back to the privacy of their tent as soon as possible so that they might eat and discuss their match, and he knew that if they paused, even for a moment, they would likely be overwhelmed.

"Croc-Bait!"

A singular, gravelly voice rose above the crowd, and despite his best intentions to keep moving, Varian immediately pulled to a halt. It had been a long time since he had heard that _particular_ nickname, and he knew there was only one person on Azeroth who would dare address him as such.

"I'm not a gladiator anymore, Rehgar," he called, glancing back over his shoulder to see a stocky, barrel-chested orc pushing his way through the crowd toward them.

The orc's face was mostly covered by a wolf's head cowl, but Varian would have recognised him almost anywhere. His chest was bare, even despite the cold, and he moved with the slow, prowling grace of a born fighter.

"Ah, my apologies… _King_ Croc-Bait..."

The orc made a great show of bowing, inclining his head with a flourish that would have made a human nobleman proud. Another king might have considered it impertinent, but Varian was simply amused. Not that he would ever give the orc the satisfaction of letting it show, of course, but he was amused nonetheless.

"Rehgar Earthfury, Auriana Wrynn," he growled drily, gesturing between the two of them by way of introduction.

It had been many years since they had last spoken, and in truth Varian was not entirely sure what to say. The world had changed dramatically since the last time they had seen one another, as had Varian himself. Rehgar represented a critical time in his life that had been greatly responsible for forging him into the man he was today, but that time nevertheless belonged in the past. He had no idea what Rehgar might want to say to _him_ , either, but it was clear that the orc shaman had come seeking Varian with a purpose.

"Master Earthfury. I've heard a lot about you," Auriana said slowly, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden appearance of Varian's former gladiatorial master.

She did not offer Rehgar her hand, but her expression was not unfriendly. Nor was it especially welcoming, either, but Varian supposed it was not unreasonable for her to be wary of the orc who had once enslaved her husband.

Admittedly, he and Rehgar had something of a strange relationship. Rehgar had been a willing participant in a slave economy, even if he had later abandoned the practice to serve the Earthen Ring, and he doubtless had a great deal of blood on his hands. That said, he had been a good master - not kind, exactly, but never abusive or mindlessly cruel. He had cared for his team, in his own way, and had treated them far better than they might have otherwise been in similar circumstances.

Rehgar had also made Varian a better warrior - had made him stronger, faster, smarter. He had been far from untrained when they had first met, but Rehgar had taught him things that could never be learned in the safety of Stormwind's training yards. When Varian and Broll had made their escape, thanks to a timely gift from Archdruid Hamuul Runetotem, Rehgar had made only a token effort to recapture them. Varian had long suspected that Rehgar had known exactly the value of the Archdruid's hippogryph feather and had let them take it regardless, and while he would never be _grateful_ to someone who had kept him in chains, he held a certain respect for the orc nonetheless.

"All flattering, I should hope," Rehgar rumbled.

Auriana cocked her head to the side, and lifted her shoulders in a coy little shrug.

"You're shorter than I expected," she said softly.

It was a bold thing to say to an orc that was two feet taller than she, but Rehgar had always been the kind to appreciate boldness. His eyes gleamed, and the barest hint of a sly smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he stared Auriana up and down. She returned his gaze evenly, despite the difference in their heights, and it was Rehgar who first looked away.

"I wanted to congratulate you on your victory in the ring today," he said finally, turning his attention back to Varian. "It pleases me to see that kingship has not dulled your edge."

"I _had_ wondered if you would come to support the orcs," Varian remarked. "My suspicions were confirmed when I noticed Saurfang using some of _your_ favourite tricks..."

Rehgar's tusks twitched in what might have almost been a smile, but he declined to elaborate further.

"Thrall asked. I couldn't very well turn him down."

"Broll is here, too, as is Valeera… though she isn't fighting," Varian added, gesturing back toward the Alliance staging area.

"Took that well, did she?" Rehgar snorted. "A pity. I had hoped I might see the three of you in action one last time."

His sharp eyes flicked to Auriana.

"Though it seems you have had great success in finding another arena partner worthy of your talents."

"I didn't marry Auriana for her fighting skills, Rehgar," Varian muttered.

Auriana let out a soft sound of disbelief.

"Well, not entirely…" he amended, shooting a brief glance in her direction.

"You don't fight like any mage I've ever seen, Your Majesty," Rehgar observed. "You are… formidable."

His eyes were partly concealed beneath the lip of his cowl, but there was no disguising the interest in his expression as he studied Auriana with a practiced gaze. Varian knew it was difficult for many people to reconcile her extraordinary power with her physical size - or lack thereof - but Rehgar had always possessed an uncanny ability to measure the worth of a fighter with a single glance.

"I know."

Auriana spoke matter-of-factly, without a hint of pride or conceit, and Varian could tell that Rehgar was sincerely impressed. He could also practically see the orc's mind turning over as he considered the possibilities that a fighting mage of Auriana's calibre and instinct represented, and for a moment he almost felt as if he had been transported back in time.

"Thinking of becoming a master again?"

"That depends," Rehgar grunted, his tusks twitching. "Can I have her?"

He nodded towards Auriana, and Varian could not help but to pull her a little closer against his side. He was _fairly_ certain that Rehgar was joking, in his typically sardonic way, but on the off chance that he wasn't… well, there was no harm in being clear.

"Not on your life," he growled.

"Hmph. I think I might continue to enjoy my retirement, then," Rehgar concluded.

He straightened, and his wolf's head cowl shifted so that for a moment his face was fully visible. He looked far older and more careworn than Varian had remembered - but then again, Rehgar could have probably said the same thing about Varian himself. More importantly, however, the orc also appeared to be at peace; or at the very least as much at peace as an orc with such a warrior's soul was capable of being. His time with the Earthen Ring seemed to have done him a measure of good, and for all their earlier banter, Varian knew then that Rehgar no longer truly had the heart for a place like the Crimson Ring.

"It is good to see you, Lo'Gosh," the shaman finished quietly, his voice low. "For what it's worth, you are still the finest warrior I've ever seen."

He inclined his head to Varian once more, but this time his manner was entirely sincere. They were not friends, exactly, but they were bound both by the weight of their shared history and a strong sense of mutual regard. Rehgar was also not one to give compliments lightly, and Varian appreciated that he gone out of his way to make his opinion known. To that end, he returned the orc's gesture with a respectful nod of his own, and his contemplative gaze followed Rehgar's retreating back long after he had turned away and disappeared into the milling crowd.

"'Croc-Bait'?"

The soft sound of Auriana's voice pulled Varian back to the present, and he looked down to see her staring at up him with wide, curious eyes. There was a trace of uncertainty in her expression, and in that moment Varian abruptly realised that his hold on her arm was still stiff and wary.

"Not the most flattering nickname I've ever had, I'll admit," he snorted, forcing himself to relax.

He shook his head, and as he did, he forcibly banished the last lingering vestiges of nostalgia to the back of his mind. Rehgar was his past, but Auriana was his future, and now was not the time to dwell.

"There's a story there…" she prompted tentatively.

"When Rehgar found me washed up on the coast of Durotar, I was one wrong move away from becoming lunch for a crocolisk," Varian elaborated, as they resumed their journey back to the Alliance camp.

He had told Auriana much of his experiences in the Crimson Ring, but he had never really explained to her exactly how he had been found. Some of his memories of that time were admittedly still blurry, though he supposed it was rather difficult to forget rolling around in the mud with a vicious beast trying that had been trying to rip his head off.

"I think it suits you. Varian Wrynn: mighty High King of the Alliance, Lo'Gosh, Champion of the Crimson Ring, crocolisk snack," she teased, bumping him gently in the side with her elbow.

"I'll feed you to a crocolisk if you're not careful," he growled, his voice deepening in warning.

Of course, the threat might have been a tad more believable had he not been struggling to hide his smirk. Auriana was certainly not convinced, judging from the twist of her lips and the sparkle in her eyes, yet she still had the good manners to at least _pretend_ to look afraid. Unfortunately, her attempts to appear intimidated were about as effective as Varian's 'threat', though he appreciated her efforts nonetheless. It was difficult to remain wistful for the past with such a lovely woman on his arm, and he was once again feeling celebratory by the time they had reached their private tent and stepped inside.

Varian and Auriana spent the next few moments in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they set about removing their boots and otherwise making themselves comfortable. The tent was pleasantly warm, one of the servants having already lit the hearthfires in anticipation of their return, and a simple platter of breads, cured meats and cheeses had been placed on a small table by the entrance. Varian's stomach growled at the sight of the food, but before he could eat, he needed to know the answer to the question that had been gnawing at him ever since they had left the arena.

"Hell of a way to start a Tournament," he remarked, turning to watch Auriana as she loosened the lengths of her intricate braid. "You made quite the impression."

"As did you, no doubt," she replied, her voice soft.

"We had a guaranteed victory."

Varian very deliberately kept his tone soft, so as not make the words sound like an accusation. In truth, he was merely curious, but he understood how such a thing could be easily misconstrued. Auriana was not the kind of person to surrender _anything_ , let alone a winning fight, and he wasn't quite sure what had motivated her to leave Saurfang for him alone. He had meant to raise the point while they were walking back to the tent, but Rehgar's unexpected arrival had proven to be rather distracting.

"We did," she said slowly. "But if I'd shot Saurfang in the back, _you_ would have spent the rest of your life wondering whether you could have won."

There was a sudden note of hesitation in her voice that belied the confidence with which she had acted in the arena, and her hands stilled in the tangles of her dark hair as she turned back to face him. Her shoulders squared defensively, and while her words themselves held a hint of teasing nonchalance, her wide-eyed expression told another story. It was clear that she feared his censure, though she seemed determined to stand by her decision regardless.

"As the person who has to _live_ with you for the rest of your life, I decided to spare myself the angst. It was a selfish decision, really."

"And what if I'd lost?" Varian asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Auriana tilted her head to the side, and let out a soft snort of bemusement.

"Do you know, that actually never occurred to me."

There was not a hint of a lie in her tone, and Varian felt a slow warmth spread through his chest. She was not the romantic sort, but he understood then that her leaving Saurfang to him alone had been intended as a romantic act. She understood him implicitly; understood his determination, his pride, his ferocity - and in her own strange little way, she had made him a gesture of her most sincere affection and regard. It was not a gesture that everyone would have appreciated, but to Varian, it was perfect.

"Thank you," he murmured, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

"What for?"

"You're right. It would have bothered me," he admitted. "Though I would probably avoid resorting to such tactics in our future matches…"

Auriana acknowledged his suggestion with a small smile and a satisfied nod, before turning away to see to the laces of her dress. She preferred not to use the services of a lady's maid, if she could avoid it, though whether it was because she was shy or disliked fuss, Varian wasn't sure. Not that he minded, of course, given that it afforded him the opportunity to watch her uninterrupted. She was always slow and methodical in her movements when she undressed, and blissfully unaware of the effect her mere presence had upon him.

 _Light, she's beautiful_ , he thought.

It was dark inside the tent, despite the afternoon sunshine outside, and the hearthfire burning beside the bed scattered strange shadows across the canvas ceiling. Auriana's dark hair glowed gold where it caught the firelight, and Varian found himself suddenly transfixed by the movement of her slender fingers as she finished unlacing her bodice and pulled her dress off over her head. Much to his satisfaction, the cotton slip she wore beneath revealed a great deal more of her slender form, and he growled deep in his chest as he imagined the feel of her soft, pale skin beneath his hands...

"Was it anything like you remembered?" Auriana asked suddenly.

"What?"

Varian shook himself out of his reverie, and tried his best to look as if he hadn't been staring. He hoped Auriana had not been made to feel self-conscious by his slack-jawed ogling, but it seemed that she remained as charmingly oblivious as always.

"I know you miss being a gladiator sometimes," she elaborated. "I was wondering if fighting in the arena today was anything like you remembered."

"Oh."

Varian considered the question seriously. He did not revel in killing or violence for violence's sake, but he loved the challenge of a fight; loved pushing himself to his physical and mental limits. There was also no doubt that a gladiator's life was far less complicated than that of a king, and there were times where he craved the black and white simplicity of his time in the Crimson Ring. Fighting in the Tournament was a pale imitation of the life or death urgency of a true gladiatorial arena, it was true... but Varian loved fighting alongside his lionhearted wife more than almost anything in the world, and he would have happily traded every second of his time in the Ring for a chance to stand with her.

"It was better," he said honestly. "Today I fought with you."

Auriana's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she weren't quite sure if she believed him, but after a few moments of contemplation she seemed to accept his declaration as the truth. It was then that Varian realised that he had been so distracted by watching her undress that he had failed to do the same, and he somewhat reluctantly turned his attention back to his own sweat-stained clothing.

He grunted as he removed his shirt; his muscles protesting the effort as he lifted his arms above his head and worked the garment free. Saurfang had put up a hell of a fight, and while Varian had eventually triumphed, he had not left the arena unscathed. Saurfang was a big, powerful warrior, even by orcish standards, and he had approached the match with the strength and intensity of a battering ram. Anything less would have been insulting, of course, but Varian's arms and shoulders had paid the price for every time he had been too slow to dodge or turn Saurfang's axe.

"Varian!"

Behind him, Auriana let out a short gasp of alarm, and Varian quickly surmised that the damage he had taken in the fight was already visible.

"Just some bruising," he said dismissively.

"' _Just_ ' some bruising? Varian…"

Her tone rang with displeasure, and Varian was forced to bite back a smile. She would quite happily endure broken bones and grevious wounds herself, but if _he_ received even so much as a scratch...

"Should I send for a healer?" she pressed, when he did not immediately reply.

"I don't want a healer. I want you."

Varian turned back to face her with a suggestive smirk, but Auriana was unconvinced. Her lips were drawn into a thin line, and her brow furrowed into an expression of deep concern. Evidently, he looked far worse than he actually felt.

"If you insist, there's some of that salve Broll likes so much in the chest over there…" he added quietly, pointing.

Auriana nodded and turned away to rummage through one of the strongboxes they had brought from Stormwind, while Varian lay down and made himself comfortable in a pile of furs on the bed. He was not overly concerned by a few bruises, though he understood that Auriana needed reassurance. There were certainly far worse things in the world than having a wife who cared so deeply, and while Varian disliked fuss as as a general rule, in this case he was more than happy to submit to her inspection.

Once Auriana had retrieved the salve, she attempted to sit on the very edge of the bed beside him, but Varian was having none of it. A hunger entirely unrelated to the food on the table had risen in his chest, and he was determined to have his fill. He snagged Auriana firmly by the wrist as she leaned forward, using her own weight against her to pull her off-balance. She let out a small gasp as she half-sat, half-fell down on top of him, and Varian was unable to hide his smile of satisfaction as she ended up straddled across his lap. He was willing to let her tend to his wounds, but that certainly didn't mean she had to be so far away.

Admittedly, it was not the best position for dispensing medical aid, but it had its own unique advantages. For one thing, it gave Varian an excellent view down the loose neckline of Auriana's slip, and for another, it meant that she was positioned at exactly the right distance for him to rest his hands upon the slender curve of her waist.

"So. Tell me how we're going to win this Tournament, little champion," he requested, stretching out his long legs as Auriana reached out to tend to his bruises.

The salve on her fingertips smelled herbal and faintly sweet, and was a violent green colour that Varian found rather off-putting. Still, Broll swore by the stuff, and even Varian had to admit that it was very effective. He felt some of the pain and tension in his muscles ease the moment Auriana touched his skin, though that might have had more to do with her presence than the balm itself. All the pressures of the world seemed to fade away whenever she was in his arms, and everything from Saurfang to Rehgar to the Tournament itself suddenly seemed very far away.

"I thought you said you were hungry," Auriana remarked, cocking a slender eyebrow.

She was clearly well aware of the fact that he had engineered the situation to ensure she ended up sitting in his lap, but as much as she was making a show of exasperation, Varian knew she was enjoying their closeness just as much as he. The last few weeks had been trying, and while he would not fully relax until the Tournament was over, he relished the opportunity to celebrate their first victory in the arena with a quiet afternoon alone. It was sometimes hard for him to believe that they were married; that she still had chosen him despite his many flaws and the weight of his crown, and he was determined to make up for his recent inattention.

"I can wait…" Varian murmured, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair back behind her left ear.

Auriana shook her head in an attempt to hide her smile, though she continued her diligent efforts to treat every last one of his bruises. She worried about him, he knew, but his gentle teasing had done exactly what he had hoped it would. Some of the tension had left her shoulders, and she no longer looked quite so troubled.

"Well, in that case… we should expect Saurfang and Aggra to adapt the next time we fight. She's quite strong, I beat her largely because I surprised her. She wasn't expecting me to get in her face like I did."

"I see…"

Varian shifted his hands from Auriana's waist to the bare skin of her thighs, and very carefully slid the scant fabric of her slip up towards her hips. He moved with the utmost care, barely half an inch at a time, while Auriana did her level best to ignore him. It was a game they had played many times before, and one that Varian loved: in which he attempted to provoke a reaction, while Auriana attempted to maintain perfect composure. They had never defined the rules out loud, but each knew their roles and the stakes of the game as well as if the terms had been inscribed in stone.

"I'm not overly worried by the goblins or the gnomes, after seeing them fight today - nor the Gilneans, for that matter," Auriana said evenly.

She did not outwardly react to his touch, but in her eyes Varian saw that she was growing rapidly less concerned by her task with every second. There was something about fighting together in the arena that stirred his blood, and despite her supposed indifference, he knew that she felt the rush as keenly as he.

"Who does worry you, then?" he asked, dutifully playing his part in their little game.

Varian was genuinely interested in her thoughts on strategy, but much like his hunger, such things could wait for another time. In truth he was listening only with half an ear; the majority of his attention fixed on the feel of her firm thighs around his chest and the way the light illuminated the sinuous curve of her neck.

"The blood elves. Aethas Sunreaver was a member of the Council of Six, that's nothing to sneeze at," Auriana explained, gently probing a blossoming bruise on his clavicle. "He's also an elf, which means he was probably already a master of magic when I was still learning how to walk."

Varian's hands continued to creep up her thigh as she spoke, gently tickling her pale flesh in attempt to break her focus. She had put up a valiant resistance, but Varian knew her body like the back of his hand. He suspected that she would not be able to resist his attentions for very much longer, if the flush of her cheeks and the slight pant in her voice were any indication; though in this circumstance, as in all others, he would accept nothing less than total victory.

"Anyone else?"

"Mmm. The rogue... _oh_ …" Auriana gasped, her hand tightening around his shoulder as his fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot.

"You were saying?" Varian prompted, making a very deliberate attempt to look as innocent as possible.

"The… the rogues," she managed, though it was clearly a difficult thing. "Sylvanas' rogues will be a challenge, and… and…"

Auriana abruptly cut herself off and set the green salve to one side, at long last abandoning all pretense at a proper conversation. She bit her lip consideringly, her head tilting to one side, and Varian stilled his hands in eager anticipation of her surrender.

"And… there's really no point in me continuing, is there?"

"Do you concede, then?" he asked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "For the second time today, I might add…"

Auriana's eyes narrowed in mock fury, and she reached out to grasp Varian roughly by the hair at the back of his neck. She was surprisingly strong for a woman of her size; though of course he had no intention of resisting. In the burning heat of her gaze, Varian saw same fierce, barely contained energy that had defined her performance in the arena, and his pulse began quicken in anticipation of a battle that promised be every bit as thrilling as the one they had just fought.

"Just for that, Varian," she whispered, brushing the words across his lips with tantalising slowness, "I'm going to make you beg…"


	20. Chapter Twenty

I'm so, so sorry this chapter has taken so long. I got hit with some really awful real life stuff this month that absolutely tanked my desire to write, and then I felt so guilty about not writing that it just made everything even worse. Please accept my sincere apologies for the delay, and my thanks for all your wonderful comments and support. It most certainly does not go unnoticed.

 **Varian**

The following day saw Varian back in the arena once more; his fists opening and closing around the hilts of two broad blades as he awaited the referee's signal to begin. After a lengthy celebration of their first victory, he and Auriana had spent the rest of the night planning their strategies for their upcoming fights. Their second attempt at discussion had been far more serious than the first, though Varian had not been above provoking her with the occasional tickle or stolen kiss. In the end, however, their conversation had resulted in a carefully planned and decided upon set of strategies for the coming battles, and they went to bed confident in their ability to handle whatever the morning might bring.

Their first duel of the day had seen them matched against the rogue and hunter duo from Gilneas. Varian had not considered them to be especially threatening, but Auriana clearly felt otherwise. She chose fire as her weapon of choice, and opened up the match with a spectacular display of pyrotechnics that left the crowd gasping and the Gilneans with little option but to flee before her burning wrath. She seemed to take _particular_ pleasure in routing the rogue, and the match was more or less over before Varian even really had time to wonder why she had taken to the fight with such vehemence.

They had then been afford a brief break between matches while several of the other duels were fought, before being once again summoned to the arena to square off against the night elves of Darnassus. Varian had been looking forward to this match in particular, keen as he was to meet his dear friend and former teammate Broll in the ring - and to subsequently beat him soundly. It had been a long time since they had stood together in an arena, and while they would meet today as foes instead of friends, Varian was almost as eager as he would have been had they been fighting on the same side.

Interestingly, Auriana had also duelled Broll once before, on the occasion of their first meeting. It had been a friendly duel, with no real stakes, but she had handily beaten the Archdruid in single combat. Broll was exceedingly smart, however, and Varian had no doubt that he would have analysed every last second of their last encounter, searching for any weaknesses that he could exploit during their rematch.

 _Not that she has any,_ Varian thought proudly.

Auriana was the smallest person in the arena by far, and yet to him, she stood taller than any of them. Her hands ignited with purple sparks as the referee called upon her to choose her magical weapon of choice, and Varian heard several gasps of surprise echo out from the crowd. Anyone who knew Auriana also knew that she typically preferred to fight with frost - or fire, were she roused to anger - and it was surprising to see her choose to work with pure arcane. As Varian had recently learned, however, she had been working with Archmage Modera in an effort to broaden her skill base - and it seemed to have already paid off. Broll had certainly come prepared to fight against Auriana's frost magic, judging by the sudden shift in his expression, though Varian doubted the revelation would throw his old friend for too long.

The Silver Hand referee then moved on to Broll's partner, Shandris Feathermoon, who naturally selected a bow. As the General of the Sentinel Army, Shandris's skills had been honed over quite literally thousands of years, and while Varian was confident in their ability to defeat her, she was not to be underestimated. She looked fit and ready, and gave Broll a determined nod as the referee at last directing his attention to the towering Archdruid.

As the referee crossed the arena floor to speak to Broll and make his final preparations for the match, Varian turned an ear to the two announcers sitting high above him in the stands. They had kept up a lively stream of informative banter the entire time Varian had been in the arena, but it was only once he heard his name that he actually began to pay attention.

"Here's a fun fact, folks," the male announcer called, his voice booming loud and jovial over the quiet, eager chatter of the crowd. "King Varian and Broll Bearmantle are actually close personal friends! They once fought together as gladiators in the Crimson Ring - which is a horribly disreputable event, by the way, very uncouth…"

Most of Varian's attention was fixed on Broll, but he couldn't help but to let out an amused snort at the goblin's words. 'Disreputable' was _one_ way to describe the Crimson Ring, though he could think of a few less flattering descriptions.

"You're just sour they rejected your proposal to call their fights," the female gnome countered.

"Well, who holds an arena event without _me_? It's barbaric, I tell you!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Varian saw the goblin shake his head; the movement making his giant bat ears bobble up and down in a rather comical fashion. He couldn't remember either of the announcer's names, though now that he was listening, their fast-paced running commentary was difficult to ignore.

"All that aside, do you think that will affect the outcome of the match?" the gnome pressed, drawing her co-announcer's attention back to the imminent clash.

"I don't think they'll go easy on each other, if that's what you mean," the goblin concluded.

Varian wholeheartedly agreed. If anything, he would probably fight harder against Broll than anyone else. He knew exactly how formidable his friend could be, and it was something of a point of pride. He, Broll, and Valeera had long debated which of the three of them was the superior fighter, and today Varian intended to prove that _he_ was the undisputed king of the arena.

"So who are you putting your money on, then?"

"The night elves, obviously," the goblin said, without hesitation.

A wave of assorted cheers and jeers rippled across the crowd, depending on whether people agreed or disagreed with his choice; Varian himself very much being a firm proponent of the latter point of view.

"Why's that?" the gnome asked. "Stormwind are currently undefeated, and have won both their matches in very convincing fashion."

 _Damn good point_ , Varian thought, nodding along with her words despite himself.

"Yeah, but the night elves have a bear," the goblin replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

" _And_?"

"It's a _bear_ , Tink! A whole damn bear!"

The goblin gestured grandly towards the arena, just as the referee gave Broll the instruction to declare his choice of weapon for the fight - which in this case would be his own transformed teeth and claws. Broll was not especially known for his showmanship, but he was hardly one to deny an excited crowd their fun. His outline shimmered at the referee's command, and a second later his humanoid form had been entirely replaced by an enormous, hulking bear. Druidic runes shone against his rugged brown fur as he shook his massive shoulders, and he let out a triumphant bellow that was so thunderous as to shake the very floor beneath their feet.

"See! Bear!" Jax shouted. "When it comes to man versus bear, bet on bear!"

He clapped his hands together with an echoing crack, and soon had the entire crowd happily chanting "Bear! Bear! Bear!" It was so loud that Varian almost didn't hear the referee begin the countdown to the start of the match, though he caught the movement of the falling flag at the last second. He did not move immediately, however, instead very deliberately choosing to allow Broll to dictate the pace of the fight.

As Varian had expected, the big druid launched himself across the arena the moment the flag hit the floor, charging towards Auriana with a speed that belied his massive size. Broll's key advantage in a fight was his sheer bulk, and the bone-crushing strength of his paws. As the over-enthusiastic goblin announcer had rightly pointed out, if Broll managed to close in range, there were few opponents who would stand a chance of overpowering a _bear_. It was also standard practice for melee fighters when attempting to engage a spellcaster - get in close as fast as possible, keep them distracted, and prevent them from ever getting a spell off - and exactly what Varian had hoped he would attempt to do.

When Auriana had suggested that she fight with arcane magic instead of frost, Varian had initially been skeptical. He had never seen her use the arcane in combat, though she had insisted it would work well with their strategy. Arcane magic allowed her to warp and shift the flow of time, as well as to rapidly change her position in the arena, which in theory would prevent Broll from ever getting anywhere near her.

The moment Broll moved, Auriana threw a quick slowing spell in his direction, before instantly turning to Shandris and unleashing a barrage of bright purple arcane missiles. The Sentinel General reacted with lightning speed, diving to the side with feline grace, before rolling smoothly to her feet and unleashing a quick shot from her bow. The point of Auriana's attack was not really to cause the elf harm, however, but to force her to move to her left - and right into the path of Varian's waiting blades.

Just as they had planned.

He fell on Shandris in a flurry, smashing into the graceful night elf with a series of brutal overhead strikes. She was about half a foot taller than he, though Varian guessed he was heavier, and he intended to use his superior musculature to his advantage whenever possible. Like most night elves, Shandris was extremely quick and agile, and Varian knew that if he let up on her for even a second, he would lose her. She danced around him like water, expertly twisting her bow to catch his blades where they slashed at her body, while at the same time looking for any opportunity to outrange him.

Although Shandris currently occupied Varian's full attention, he was not at all worried about exposing his flank. He was confident that Auriana could keep Broll at bay while he dealt with Shandris; and indeed their entire plan hinged on her ability to push Broll out of the fight so that they could focus the full force of their effort on defeating Shandris. They would then be free to turn on Broll and fight him two versus one; a numerical advantage that almost guaranteed victory.

It was a difficult thing, Varian knew, for a mage to switch targets as rapidly as Auriana was now doing, but it seemed to be working. Every time Broll managed to get close, she either hamstrung him with a powerful slowing spell, or blinked clear away to the opposite side of the arena. She would then use that space to harass Shandris whenever she could, peppering the female elf with bolts of pure magic as sharp as needles.

Of course, alternating between targets while maintaining a constant barrage of spells meant that Auriana would fatigue more rapidly than she would have otherwise, but they had decided to gamble on their ability to take Shandris out of the fight long before she tired. Despite her size, Auriana had considerable stamina, and she showed no signs of slowing down as she led Broll on a merry chase across the arena.

Varian did not take his eyes off Shandris for a second, but he could tell his old friend was rapidly growing frustrated. Broll's once eager growls had grown low and irritated as he repeatedly tried and failed to catch the elusive Auriana - and Varian did not blame him in the slightest. In truth, their chosen strategy put Broll in an incredibly maddening position. In his bulky bear form, he lacked the speed necessary to chase down a mage who had the ability to blink across half the arena in the fraction of a second, but if he were to switch targets and pursue Varian, he would leave himself open to the full, uninhibited force of Auriana's magic.

In the end, however, Broll evidently decided that fighting Varian directly was worth the risk. He faked towards Auriana, forcing her to blink away, before switching direction at the last moment. Varian guessed he had four heartbeats worth of time before he was tackled by a bear, and it seemed that Shandris had come to the same conclusion. Her left foot shifted, turning inwards as prepared to leap backwards out of Broll's path, and in that moment Varian struck.

In their last few minutes of fighting, he had noticed that Shandris's leaps were not as quick or as powerful when she balanced off her left side. It was a small thing, perhaps a mere half a second difference, but to Varian, that was all the time in the world. He drove the point of his right hand sword hard into Shandris's foot, and the Sentinel gasped in sudden pain. Before she could react further, Varian smoothly continued his movement by lifting his right elbow and slamming it into her face. She stumbled back, her nose bleeding, but Varian did not relent. He immediately dropped his right sword, and used his free hand to grab her beneath the pit of her arm and hurl her roughly into the path of the oncoming bear.

Broll managed to miss ploughing headlong into his teammate, but it was a very near thing. He threw himself to the side at the last second; his massive claws digging deep furrows in the arena floor as he struggled to control his momentum. Shandris hit the ground hard, obviously dazed from the blow to her face, and fumbled desperately for her fallen bow.

She did not move fast enough.

Freed from the pressure of Broll's relentless pursuit, Auriana was now able to cast entirely unencumbered. Her hands had come alive with a blinding purple shimmer of arcane power, and indeed her entire body seemed to crackle with magical lighting as she unleashed on Shandris with full force. A relentless barrage of spells kept the night elf on her knees, allowing Varian enough time to recover the sword he had dropped, and to finish Shandris by brutally ripping both blades across her chest. Had they not been blunted, she would have been eviscerated.

Broll bellowed in fury as he saw his companion fall, and he quickly turned that rage upon Varian. A massive paw came flying at Varian's head from seemingly out of nowhere, and he was forced onto the back foot as his entire world became a veritable storm of slashing claws and snapping teeth. Up close, Broll was terrifying; the disadvantage of his relative slowness at range entirely mitigated by the sheer power of his bear form in the melee.

One could hardly blame a man for fleeing before such a furious display of nature's might, but Varian was not such a man. In actual fact, he was having the time of his life. He knew Broll's strengths and weaknesses almost as well as he knew his own, and the moment they came together he was transported back to their time sparring together in preparation for fighting in the Crimson Ring.

It had also been quite some time since he had fought with twin blades, and he realised how much he had missed the challenge of a dual wield strategy. Left hand cut, right hand thrust, slip, lunge, parry… the movements came to him as easily as breathing, and he happily lost himself in the rhythm of the fight - that is, until the crystal clear sound of Auriana's voice cut through his warrior's haze.

"Varian! Hold him!" she roared.

After dispatching Shandris, Auriana had evidently taken a brief moment to recoup her magical power, but had now returned to the fight in full force. She blinked across the arena to Broll's other side, and as she did, she made a rough slashing gesture across the midline of her stomach. To anyone else, such a signal might have been far too vague, but Varian understood his wife as clearly as if she had whispered an explanation in his ear.

He immediately disengaged, and feigned a dash to the side. Luckily, Broll took the bait and attempted to follow, driving most of his weight down onto his right side as he attempted to mimic Varian's hairpin turn. Varian anticipated the movement, and turned Broll's own momentum against him; ducking beneath a swiping paw and jumping high in the air so that he ended up half-straddling Broll's back on his right-hand side. He then slipped his blades beneath Broll's right foreleg at the shoulder, one sliding through on each side, and threw himself backwards with all his might.

If Broll had been standing still, he likely wouldn't have been moved. Given that he was already overbalanced on his right hand side, however, the addition of Varian's weight proved to be too much. They hit the arena floor hard, and Varian grunted as the force of the impact expelled the air from his lungs. He would pay for that later, he knew - another spectacular bruise to add to his growing collection - but right now, he had a job to do.

Varian tensed his muscles and hauled on Broll's leg as hard as he could, straining to resist his friend's colossal weight. The rune marks on his shoulders and the natural heaviness of his pelt both provided Broll with considerable protection, but like most animals, he was weaker at the belly. If Varian could hold him in place for long enough, splayed out on his side with his belly exposed and vulnerable, Auriana would be able to finish him off.

Broll quickly realised that he was in trouble, and he began to thrash mightily in an attempt to wrest himself free of Varian's iron grip. The screech of his claws against the arena floor was hair-raising, and it took all of Varian's strength to avoid being crushed. Indeed, his struggles were so violent that Varian was sure he had to have swallowed a decent amount of Broll's sweaty fur as he clung doggedly to the bear's back.

Fortunately, Varian did not have to endure for long. Auriana had moved the moment he and Broll had hit the ground, and saw a sudden flash of arcane lightning as she gathered her power for the second time. He grit his teeth and dug in, and a second later he felt his limbs thrill with reflected energy as Broll was hit by an incredibly powerful arcane barrage. With his belly exposed and his flailing limbs held in place by Varian, he had no recourse or defense, and in mere seconds, his spell shield had been burned away into nothing.

Varian released Broll from his grasp the moment the referee called the end of the match, though he did not immediately rise to his feet. He was sweat-soaked and covered in loose strands of bear fur, and for a moment he closed his eyes and simply lay back on the arena as he waited for his breathing to slow. Wrestling a bear was no easy task, even for a man of Varian's size and strength, and he decided he had more than earned a brief moment of rest.

"Well played, old friend. That was by _far_ the most annoying duel I've ever fought."

Varian cracked open an eye to see Broll standing above him, having already resumed his normal humanoid appearance. He looked as sweaty and flushed as Varian felt, and Varian could tell that he was disappointed to have lost. Still, he was magnanimous in defeat, and he offered Varian a hand to help him back to his feet.

"I aim to please," Varian quipped, gratefully accepting his friend's assistance.

Once standing, he brushed a lock of damp hair out of his eyes, and spared a glance for the cheering crowd. He hadn't paid them much attention to them during the heat of the moment, but now that the fight was over, he realised just how damn _loud_ they were. He raised a hand in acknowledgement, prompting another round of cheering, though he declined to engage in the kind of showboating that was popular with some of the other victorious contestants.

"That said, I'm fairly sure I'll be coughing up a hairball tomorrow," he added, grinning.

"Consider it the price of victory," Broll snorted. "You won't have it so easy in the rematch, you know."

"So you say. I very much look forward to beating you a second time," Varian quipped.

Broll laughed at that, though there was a slight edge to his smile that suggested he was not entirely speaking in jest. Varian had little opportunity to prod further, however, as they were all hurried out of the arena to make way for the next match. There was a tight schedule to keep, and doubtless the crowd would all but riot if they didn't get their fill of fighting.

Varian also had to be conscious of the time for his own sake. As fun as it was teasing Broll, he and Auriana had a break of only two matches before they would be called back to the arena for their third match of the day. There was not enough time to eat properly, though Varian quickly wolfed down a few hunks of bread to tide him over until the end of the day. For her part, Auriana declined to eat, claiming that it upset her stomach before a fight; instead drinking two mana pots to replenish her magical energy. Varian also took a moment to resecure the pieces of his armour that had been loosened during his tussle on the floor with Broll, and in no time at all he found himself back in the arena, preparing to face off against the twin rogues of Undercity.

Once again, he and Auriana were positioned on the other side of the arena from one another; Varian at the north gate and Auriana at the south. This time, however, they did not intend to allow their opponents the first move. Mages and other spellcasters were particularly vulnerable to sneak attack, given the relative paucity of their armour and the intense concentration that magic required. It was therefore almost assured that the rogues would strike first against Auriana, hoping to leverage the advantage afforded by their invisibility to quickly take her out of the fight. Together, she and Varian had developed a plan to counter the rogues' most likely strategy, though he knew that the match was going to be anything but predictable.

Auriana was the first off the mark, launching herself forward a mere half second after the referee had signalled the fight, and closing the distance between them in two rapid blinks. She did not so much as spare a glance for either of the two rogues as they each shimmered and vanished, so focused was she on getting to Varian. He, too, moved as fast as he was able, sprinting towards her with his sword and shield held high. They came together in the centre of the floor, each sliding to a halt at the very last second and coming around so that they were pressed firmly back-to-back.

It had been a long time since Varian had fought with a shield upon his arm. He typically preferred the more offensive nature of a greatsword or twin blades, though in this case their strategy required him to adopt a more defensive posture. His choice of the shield and their back-to-back position had been carefully chosen to limit the rogues' potential avenues for attack, and to allow Auriana time to enact her part of their plan.

Varian dropped into a half-crouch with his shield raised and at the ready, and he let out a soft grunt of acknowledgement as Auriana reached back to touch a guiding hand against his belt. She pressed against him like glue, and she easily mirrored his every movement as he peered around the arena in search of any sign of their opponents. Admittedly, he didn't expect to see the rogues move this early on in the fight, though he hoped they would show themselves soon. He much preferred a straight fight to the eerie silence of an inevitable ambush, and despite his best efforts, he was unable to prevent his fingers from twitching where they wrapped around the strap of his shield.

"Do it," he muttered, gently nudging Auriana with his elbow.

A rogue's chief advantage in a fight was the ability to appear invisible - after all, it was difficult to fight something you couldn't even see. They were swift, too, and almost soundless; trained to leave naught but the barest whispered hint of their presence. They had an uncanny way of appearing out of nowhere, and even a heavily armoured warrior or a powerful mage had to be careful not to let their guard down.

One thing rogues were _not_ , however, was intangible. Despite their near preternatural ability to sneak around unseen, they still had to move across the ground like anyone else - a weakness that Auriana now fully intended to exploit. Her weight shifted as she raised her hands, and Varian felt the air around him cool as she called upon her frost magic. His heart beat once, then twice, and then the world around him exploded in blinding white as Auriana conjured a localised blizzard out of thin air.

They stood as one together, back-to-back in the eye of the storm; entirely untouched by the swirling ice and snow that raged all around them. Varian guessed that the blizzard was about forty feet across - not wide enough to cover the entire floor of the arena, but enough to provide them with a wide buffer zone for protection. Were the rogues to attack, they would be forced to step into the path of the blizzard, and thus reveal themselves wherever the driving snow touched them.

That said, he had no idea how long Auriana could maintain the spell, and he was hoping that the rogues had no idea, either. Rogues were typically patient fighters, striking only when conditions were absolutely right. Varian had heard stories of SI:7 agents who had waited, unseen for _days_ before ambushing their targets; though in this case he was gambling on the fact that Sylvanas' rogues would grow impatient with the stalemate a _little_ sooner.

Varian readjusted his grip on his shield, and squinted through the whipping white snow as he sought any sign of movement that might give the rogue's positioning away. The one key disadvantage of his and Auriana's plan was that it reduced visibility for _them_ just as much as it inhibited their opponents, and it forced them to rely far more heavily on their other senses. Fortunately, aside from the sound of the storm, the air around the arena was quiet and still as the entire crowd collectively held their breath in anticipation of the inevitable fight.

The brush of cold against the exposed skin of Varian's face felt as real as if it were a natural storm, and the heat of his breath sent small spirals of steam swirling into the air. It took a great deal of control to keep his breathing steady when his entire body was singing with adrenaline and anticipation, but he was both well practiced and determined not to fail. In a fight like this, where strategy was far more important than brute strength or weapon skill, control was _everything_. If he moved too soon, if he flinched or left his flank open for even a second, the duel would be all over before it truly began.

It helped to have Auriana so close. Varian could have sworn he felt the faint, reassuring thrum of her heartbeat against his back, even through his armour, and he could just make out the soft rasp of her breath over the sound of the falling snow. Her breathing was slow and even, and perfectly synchronised with his own, though he could feel every muscle in her body corded as tightly as a coiled spring. He couldn't see her face, but he could perfectly picture the slight furrow of her brow and the ferocious intensity of her unblinking stare. She was remarkably focused and single-minded when it came to a fight, and there was no-one on Azeroth Varian would have rather had watching his flank.

After a few interminably long and tense minutes of silence, the back of Varian's neck suddenly prickled in warning, and his breath inadvertently hitched in his chest. His heartbeat accelerated, thundering in his ears, and his head snapped to the right as the slightest hint of movement caught his attention. The storm continued to rage the entire while, but within the driving snow he saw two wavering distortions - one straight ahead, and one off in the very corner of his right eye.

 _There you are..._

The rogues struck at exactly the same time, coordinating their attack in a clever attempt to disorient Varian and Auriana and split them apart. The male Forsaken dove directly for Auriana, evidently deciding that his best bet was to charge her and hope that he could reach her before she noticed the disturbance in the blizzard. What he had not counted on, however, was Auriana's incredible reflexes. Varian had only just registered the rogue's movement himself when he felt her arm move against his side, and she hurled a wave of pure ice at the Forsaken's feet.

At the same time, the female rogue attacked Varian head on, flipping high into the air and slashing down at him with her twin daggers. To counter, he thrust his shield upwards at the last second, smashing into her ankles and using the force of her own momentum against her. She barely weighed anything, most of her flesh and muscle having long ago rotted away, and with the aid of his shield, Varian easily hurled her to one side.

Of course, the fact that the two rogues were now visible didn't make them any less dangerous. Auriana's quick, instinctive frost nova was only enough to hold the male rogue for a few seconds, and he came at her again the moment he was freed. His movements were unnaturally fluid, as if he were made of smoke, and he moved far more rapidly than his awkward, bony figure suggested that he could.

Varian could not let such an affront stand. He smoothly continued the arc of his shield through the air as he spun on the heel his left foot, before he bought it down and around Auriana's body and enveloped her in a literal wall of steel. Instead of the softness of flesh, the rogue's dagger found only the intractable hardness of the shield, and Varian was gratified to see a look of genuine surprise and annoyance flare in his yellowed eyes.

 _Hmph. You're not the only one who's faster than he looks,_ Varian thought grimly.

The rogue was also not one to dwell on his failure overlong, and he immediately disengaged. In response, Varian released Auriana from his protective embrace, though he did not move away from her side. He could tell that the Forsaken wanted him to give chase; wanted to bait him into stepping forward so that his companion could have free rein to attack Auriana, but despite what many may have thought, Varian was not so easily goaded.

Instead, he prowled around Auriana in a tight circle, never taking his eyes off the two rogues. The male had retreated to the northern wall of the arena, and was now pacing back and forth with his bony fingers clenched tightly around his daggers. Without the advantage afforded by his invisibility, he was forced to reconsider his hit-and-run strategy. The female had also regained her feet after her bone-rattling fall, though she was limping slightly on her right foot. Auriana had let her conjured blizzard fade away into nothing, the spell having more than served its purpose, and was now staring at the female rogue the way a wolf might stare at a wounded sheep.

Auriana suddenly struck without warning, launching a barrage of razor-sharp icicles at the female rogue. While the start of the match had been all about control, it seemed that she had decided it was more than past time to increase the tempo of the fight. In reality, it had barely been a minute since the rogues had launched their initial attacks, even though the restraint demanded by their strategy made it feel like hours. Varian itched to follow up on Auriana's magic with a devastating charge of his own, but he held back, knowing that any sign of hotheadedness would likely lose them the match - and as it turned out, it was a very good thing he did.

Sensing an opening, the male rogue dashed in, putting on an incredible show of speed as he leapt once again for Auriana's exposed flank. With her attention focused on her spellcasting she was vulnerable to melee assault… or would have been, at least, had Varian not been there to protect her. He once again met the rogue's lightning quick attack with the back of his shield; only this time, he did not intend to let the rogue disengage. Growling fiercely, he twisted his shield downwards so that one of the rogue's daggers was caught on its edge; his action forcing the Forsaken to choose between losing his weapon or being pulled off balance.

In the end, the rogue chose to relinquish his dagger, flipping back out of Varian's reach and swapping his remaining weapon to his dominant hand. With only one slender dagger now in his possession, it was unlikely he would be able to defend against Varian's broadsword, and so he finally made the decision to leap away from Auriana's side to give chase to the now-fleeing rogue. She seemed to have the female rogue very much on the run, and he figured that the sooner he finished the fight, the better.

Once again, Varian was surprised by the rogue's speed. It made no sense that creature of exposed bone and wasted sinew could run at all, let alone so quickly; but whatever strange magic it was that held the Forsaken together seemed to be an effective means of imitating genuine muscle. Weighed down as he was by his plate and his bulky shield, Varian found it difficult to keep up, and his heart leapt into his throat as the rogue abruptly changed direction and turned back on Auriana, seemingly gathering the shadows themselves around him as he ran.

It was a daring, clever move… and one that might have been successful, if not for Auriana's quick thinking. Varian's chase had given her enough space and time to work her magic unencumbered, and she spun to meet the charging male rogue the moment she saw him move. She flung one last debilitating frostbolt at the female rogue to keep her slowed, before sending an enormous orb of swirling ice and snow right into the path of the male.

To his credit, the rogue made a valiant attempt to dodge, but the spell was simply too fast and too wide. He took the full force of the spell head on; the relentless frost slowing him almost to a standstill and tearing away at his magical shield. Auriana then immediately blinked away to a safe distance, while Varian used the time she had bought to rapidly close back into melee range.

He slammed into the rogue in a fury, smashing him in the face with his shield to keep him disoriented, before slashing at his chest with the blunted blade of his sword. The rogue was skilled, however, and actually managed to slip between and around a few of Varian's strikes. That said, he could not hope to resist forever. He certainly could not hope to win without either his second dagger or the element of surprise, and after a brief back and forth, Varian finished him off with a powerful slash across what remained of his throat.

With her partner's defeat, the female rogue was more or less out of options, and she clearly knew it. She slunk around the edge of the arena like a cornered cat; the corner of her lip curling upward a frustrated sneer. Rogue tactics largely revolved around evasion techniques and an ability to get in and out of a fight as fast as possible, and it was clear that the female Forsaken was struggling to decide what to do now that all her advantages had been stripped away. She still made a genuine attempt to close in on Auriana, at least, much as her companion had done, but in the end she was simply beaten down by a veritable hailstorm of ice lances.

Varian let out a long sigh as the referee lifted his hand to formally award Stormwind the victory, though he did not immediately relax his fighting stance. A strange warning sensation lingered in the back of his mind, even after the rogues had surrendered their weapons and skulked out of the arena. No-one else appeared especially concerned, though he had learned a long time ago never to ignore his instincts.

Varian cast a wary eye over the crowd, but it was not the excited, happy faces of the spectators that abruptly caught his attention. Instead, his gaze fell upon Sylvanas Windrunner, sitting off to the side in the farthest left-hand corner of the stands. She was not alone; the seat on her right staunchly occupied by her dour faced bodyguard, Nathanos Blightcaller. No one else had dared to sit too close to the Banshee Queen, though whether it was because she had chosen a relatively poor vantage point, or because she radiated such an eerie and uncomfortable aura, Varian wasn't sure.

Perhaps it was a little of both.

Of course, it was not actually Sylvanas's choice of seating that concerned Varian, but rather the wrathful gleam in her blood red eyes. Even for someone who was permanently grim, she appeared to be especially unhappy. Her lips were drawn into a thin, disdainful line, and the slight flare of her nostrils hinted at a cold rage lurking beneath her otherwise icy expression.

It was not Varian who had attracted such attention, however, nor even the two defeated assassins. Rather, it was _Auriana_ who had drawn the Dark Lady's eye, though she seemed quite unaware that she was under such intense scrutiny. As far as Varian knew, the two women had never met, and yet Sylvanas was staring at his wife as if she were responsible for every single misfortunate Sylvanas had ever suffered.

 _Strange..._

Varian was well aware that the decision to hold the Tournament had not been universally popular, but there was something distinctly personal to the flavour of Sylvanas's ire that left a sour taste in his mouth. He did not openly react, though he stood a little closer to Auriana's side as they exited the arena, and he made a mental note to double the guard outside their tent that night. He had no idea what might have piqued the Banshee Queen… her rogue's defeat, the way the spectators had lavished their attention on Auriana, the very Tournament itself… but whatever the reason was, he knew for certain that he didn't like it one bit...


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Auriana**

After years of service as an Alliance commander, and now as Stormwind's Queen, Auriana was more or less used to being recognisable, though she was _not_ used to being famous. And yet, after an unbeaten streak of victories in the arena, that's exactly what she was.

As a naturally shy person, Auriana found her newfound notoriety rather confronting. She was certainly highly visible in her role as Queen, though most people tended to remain respectfully distant when it came to royalty. As a Tournament champion, however, it seemed that she was fair game. Almost every time she stepped outside her tent, she was confronted by a gaggle of excited spectators wanting to offer their congratulations, ask questions about her upcoming fights, or to request autographs. There was even one portly dwarf who had asked for a detailed breakdown of what she had eaten for breakfast each day of the Tournament, and had carefully recorded her answers in a little notebook and while grumbling under his breath the entire time.

As a result, Auriana had spent most of her time at the Tournament holed up in her private tent. She was genuinely flattered by all the support she had received, though she found it difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who had taken to following her around. She had Varian, of course, and Ridley, but even standing in the shadow of her two stalwart protectors, she still felt painfully exposed.

Fortunately, the one place she did not feel awkward and uncomfortable was the arena. Auriana had always suspected that she would be well suited to the life of an arena champion, but she had sorely underestimated just how much she enjoyed a good fight. While she did not miss the constant, heart-pounding stress of life during wartime, she _had_ missed the thrill of combat; the challenge of pushing herself to her physical and magical limits, and the pure, unmatched satisfaction of a battle well won. The fact that she was now fighting alongside Varian was the icing on the cake, and despite all the pressure and the distractions, she could scarcely remember a time in her life when she had had more _fun_.

Today, in particular, was the day she had been anticipating the most; ever since the Tournament draw had been posted. She and Varian were scheduled to fight two matches that day, the first against the blood elves Aethas Sunreaver and Penthas Sunbinder. Auriana didn't care much about the paladin, but she was keen to test her skills against another Archmage. She had been working hard on her duelling with Modera, and she was eager to see how she might match up against a mage as notorious and talented as Aethas.

For their second fight of the day, Auriana and Varian were matched against the Darkspear trolls. While Auriana and Zala'din had fought beside one another on several occasions, they had never before had the opportunity to duel one another. Auriana knew that Zala'din had a competitive streak almost as wide as her own, and that he would do everything in his power to beat her. Not that she would ever let such a thing happen, of course, but she would enjoy watching him try.

Before Auriana could meet her friend in the arena, however, there was first the matter of the blood elves. Their match was the second of the day, right after a clash between the worgen and the Tushui Pandaren, which left Auriana and Varian with very little time to prepare. Immediately upon waking, they both dressed and made their way to the staging grounds to don their armour, before continuing on to the arena proper.

The arena floor was encircled by a labyrinth of tunnels, which served as storage space for weapons, banners and other Tournament paraphernalia. The tunnels also provided a means of quickly travelling from one side of the arena to the other, without having to go through the crowd, as well as place for champions to wait before they were called to fight.

Auriana always hated the last quarter hour or so before a match. The tunnels did little to dull the roar of the crowd overhead, and there was naught for her to do but wait, fidgeting, as adrenaline and anticipation coursed through her veins. Worst still was the moment when one of the Tournament officials came to lead Varian away to his own gate on the other side of the arena, leaving Auriana to stand alone in the near-darkness while anxiously counting down the last few minutes until she was summoned by the referee.

Auriana was especially edgy before their match against the blood elves. She had been calm for most of the morning, but the moment she and Varian had entered the arena tunnels, her stomach suddenly felt like a pit of writhing snakes. Magic was one of the most important things in her life, and somewhere deep inside she feared being proven unworthy of the title of Archmage. She was strong, certainly, but raw strength alone was no guarantee against a mage of Aethas's calibre. And as much as Auriana understood why the Kirin Tor had asked her to step down from her duties, it still hurt, and there was a small, petty part of her that wanted to prove to the entire world that they had acted in error.

Varian seemed to have sensed her nervousness, and he stayed unusually close as they went through their usual pre-fight checks with the officials. Security around the Tournament was tight, and each contestant was required to prove that they were not somehow cheating or concealing unsanctioned weaponry within their armour. Neither Auriana nor Varian spoke throughout the now-familiar process, and it was only as Varian made to leave for the north entrance gate that Auriana broke the silence.

"Varian. Wait."

She reached for the back of Varian's arm, brushing her fingers softly across the cool metal of his armour. He stopped immediately at her touch, and glanced back at her over his shoulder with a concerned expression.

"Keep the paladin busy," she murmured, her voice low and determined. "Aethas is mine."

"Is that so?"

Varian had turned fully to face her then, and the concern shadowed in his eyes shifted to something far more akin to affectionate amusement.

"I gave you Saurfang," she reminded him.

"So you did. I suppose it would be churlish of me to deny you the same," Varian agreed, nodding. "In which case… as you wish, Your Majesty."

He bent forward in a low, sweeping bow - which might have _almost_ been respectful, if not for the crooked, barely disguised grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He seemed perfectly content to trust in her decision, at least, though as he turned away into the engulfing darkness of the tunnels, Auriana couldn't help but wonder whether his confidence in her was misplaced.

Mercifully, she was not left brooding overlong, as only a few minutes later she was summoned into the arena. She emerged from the southern gate, while Varian made his entrance from the north. The paladin came in from the west, but Auriana's attention was fully focused on Aethas. He looked calm and coolly confident, with the slight swagger and the imperious carriage so typical of his people. In short, he looked more than prepared for the fight, and Auriana felt her heart rate suddenly double.

Despite her agitation, however, Auriana somehow managed to wait patiently as Varian and the two blood elves selected their weapons or magic of choice. The young paladin was the first to decide, and he spent several minutes agonising over his selection before he eventually opted for a massive greatsword that was nearly as long as Auriana was tall. Oddly enough, he seemed rather unsure of his choice, and it was only once he looked to the stands to find Lady Liadrin and the handsome Blood Knight seated beside her that he settled.

Varian, too, chose a two-handed sword; perhaps in an attempt to intimidate the paladin even before the match began. There was certainly an unspoken air of _'anything you can do, I can do better'_ in the way he selected the weapon and made a few lazy warm-up passes: where the young paladin had hesitated, Varian's every move oozed confidence. The blunted arena sword was not quite as impressive a blade as Shalamayne, of course, but then again, Varian was the kind of man who could make a wooden spoon look intimidating.

Aethas was the next to declare, though unlike the other spellcasters Auriana had faced thus far, his part in the ritual of choosing was far from subtle. Most contestants she had seen had simply called loose magic to their hands or performed a basic illustrative spell, but Aethas, it seemed, had other plans. He raised his right hand, and a single point of fire coalesced between his outstretched fingers. The spell shimmered once, then twice, and a second later the entire crowd gasped as a towering, illusory phoenix exploded into life and soared away to complete a triumphant lap of the arena.

 _Subtle._

Auriana let out a soft snort at Aethas's display, though she couldn't help but be impressed by the strength and precision with which he worked his magic. It wasn't surprising, given that he was an Archmage and the leader of his people's most prominent magical organisation, but it did give Auriana pause. She had come prepared to fight his fire with her frost, and at the time, the decision had made a great deal of sense. Frost magic was the comfortable and familiar choice, and in a fight against an experienced Archmage from a race of people who had already been practicing magic for thousands of years when _her_ ancestors had still been huddled fearfully around campfires, it made sense to play to her strengths. The moment that blazing phoenix sailed overhead, however, Auriana's mind was made up.

If she _really_ wanted to beat Aethas, if she really wanted to prove herself, then she had to beat him at his own game.

Auriana had never really enjoyed the delicacy and patience required to cast fiddly spells like the phoenix, but what she lacked in subtlety, she more than made up for in strength. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered worse than ever at the sight of Aethas's immaculate casting, though she nevertheless managed to answer with a monstrous, flaming apparition of her own.

Auriana did not summon another phoenix, however, but rather a _wolf_ \- and a rather large one, at that. The illusion was nearly five foot tall at the shoulder, with fiery paws the size of dinner plates and a hellish maw that dripped searing sparks as it prowled protectively around her legs. Far across the arena, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she might have seen Varian smirk, though she did not look toward him for fear of losing her concentration.

For his part, Aethas's focused expression never wavered, though his left hand closed into a determined fist. The crowd, naturally, went wild, and even the referee seemed rather amused by the display. She nodded once to acknowledge Auriana's choice, and a few moments later dropped her hand downwards to indicate the start of the match.

Auriana reacted immediately, flicking her wrist and sending the blazing wolf racing off towards Aethas. There was little point in wasting a perfectly good spell, and it seemed that the blood elf Archmage felt the same. He perfectly mirrored her spell, and the phoenix and the wolf crashed into one another in a veritable storm of sparks and flames.

Trusting Varian to keep the paladin occupied, Auriana advanced in the wake of her wolf, and soon she and Aethas were swept up in a spectacular and fiery duel. His magic was - and there really was no other word for it - beautiful. While the methods used for casting simple spells tended to remain consistent between different mages, advanced spells left more room for interpretation and experimentation. As the old adage went, there was more than one way to skin a mana saber. In Aethas's case, Auriana quickly learned that he favoured complex, elaborate castings that were masterpieces of magical symmetry and elegance. Of course, such detail was more or less invisible to anyone without arcane ability, but to a trained mage, he was dazzling.

Almost _too_ dazzling, in fact. In the face of such refinement and precision, Auriana felt like an awkward, clumsy oaf. She was more than a match for Aethas in terms of raw strength, but she had never in her life attempted to work spells of such complexity. Aethas was a true Archmage, and by comparison, Auriana felt like a wide-eyed first-year apprentice struggling to cast her first fireball.

For the first time in the Tournament, Auriana found herself on the back foot, scrambling to get back into the fight as Aethas punished her every move with scrupulous determination. Her mind went blank, and without even realising it, she began to mimic his meticulous method of casting spells. Or at the very least, she _attempted_ to do so. Unfortunately, without the same training and decades of practice, Auriana was woefully disadvantaged, and she began to genuinely fear that she might lose the fight.

Aethas smoothly wove fireball after fireball after fire blast, forcing Auriana to slowly give up ground as she struggled to dodge his calm but relentless onslaught. She had never before blanked in a fight quite so badly, and she swore under her breath as even the simplest of fire spells came undone in her hands. Magic that normally flowed like a river through her veins was suddenly sluggish and uncooperative, and she gasped in horror as Aethas punished her incompetence with the most singularly perfect pyroblast she had ever seen.

Auriana dove gracelessly to the side, and felt a wave of heat wash over her as Aethas's spell exploded just above her head. She grunted as her knees met the unforgiving wood of the arena floor, and felt a sharp pain lance through her wrists as she threw out her hands to break her fall. Off in the distance, she heard one of the announcers cry out in dismay, and Auriana couldn't help but assume that Aethas was preparing a final spell to eliminate her while she was down. She wasn't one prone to surrender, but disheartened and disoriented as she was, she could only raise a weakly burning shield in her defense.

 _Get up._

Time seemed to slow down as Auriana cringed dazedly on the arena floor, panting as she fought to catch her breath. The fierce voice of her rage urged her to stand up, to fight back, but for once she found it unmoving. She couldn't hope to match Aethas's elegance and precision, even if she had a hundred years to try, and if she couldn't hope to match him, then there was little point in standing up.

 _And why are you trying to match him, you daft girl?_

A second voice joined the first, and it sounded so uncannily similar to Modera that Auriana had to resist the urge to check whether older Archmage had somehow managed to teleport herself into the arena.

 _Stop playing to_ his _strengths, and start playing to_ yours. _You're not some mincing magister with more style than sense, you are a juggernaut_ , the voice added. _Fight like one._

With a start, Auriana realised that - much like her tangible counterpart often did - that the imagined Modera had a point. While Aethas was extraordinarily skilled in general, he wasn't a duellist. Not really.

Auriana hadn't noticed it at first, distracted as she was by the sheer beauty of his spellwork and hampered by her own insecurities, but now that she thought about it, her inner voice was right. She had been so nervous that she had allowed herself to be overawed by Aethas's skill as a mage, and had not paid attention to his weaknesses. His spellwork was remarkable, it was true, but far better suited for the sedate calm of an arcane conservatory rather than a face-paced battle. He had only gained the advantage because Auriana had _allowed_ him sufficient time and space in which to work his complex spells - which, she realised rather belatedly, had probably been his intent all along.

 _You really are daft._

Auriana leaned more of her weight onto her wrists, allowing the crisp clarity of the pain to clear the fog from her mind. It wasn't an ideal solution, admittedly, but in a strange way it helped her to regain her focus. The arena around her almost immediately came back into sharp relief, and a fresh wave of energy flooded her chest.

 _Get up!_

This time, Auriana heeded the call, using a quick blink to get herself back to her feet and away from Aethas at the same time. He looked somewhat surprised to see her up and fighting, though he did not allow himself to be thrown for long. Almost immediately, he began to channel another pyroblast, and it was clear from the confident quirk of his long brows that he believed victory to be near.

 _Perfect form,_ Auriana thought grimly, _But far too slow._

She forcibly pushed any thoughts of her own inadequacy to the back of her mind, and quickly summoned a pyroblast of her own. In comparison to Aethas's spell, it was rather brutish - if not downright ugly - but it sure as hell was _strong_. So strong, in fact, that it simply obliterated Aethas's own blast where the two spells collided in mid-air.

Aethas blinked.

Auriana snarled.

With the sweet sting of magic now burning freely through her bones, Auriana stopped worrying about perfect spellwork and proving that she was worthy of being an Archmage, and allowed herself to simply _be._ Something inside her shifted, and her magic came to her as it always had - not sophisticated, or artfully crafted, but swift and powerful and furious.

Auriana slugged Aethas with spells over and over again, falling into the flow of her magic in a way that she hadn't done in a good long while. There was no theory here, only instinct, and after a while she forgot the crowd, the announcers, and even Aethas himself. One spell blended into another with effortless ease, and it was only once she heard a sudden, thunderous roar of cheers and applause that she realised she had beaten Aethas to his knees.

The blood elf Archmage's once immaculate red hair was dishevelled and out of place, and now _he_ was the one fighting to catch his breath. He looked rather stunned, as if he couldn't quite believe how quickly the match had turned, nor the dramatic irony of the sudden reversal of their positions. Auriana doubted the distinguished elf ever had much cause to find himself dirty and beaten on his knees, though such a thought did give her pause in the slightest. She might have badly fumbled the start of the match, but she absolutely _refused_ to fail at the end.

Given that Aethas had tried to end their match with a pyroblast, Auriana thought it only appropriate that she do the same. A low growl rose in her throat as she reached down into the deepest wellspring of her power, and summoned one of the most powerful spells she had ever cast. It flew from her hands like lightning, racing across the arena to smash through the last of Aethas's shattered defenses with tangible force. He crumpled, defeated, and a savage roar of triumph tore from Auriana's throat to echo loud above the exhilarated crowd.

Across the arena, Varian was dutifully fulfilling his duty to keep the paladin well away from Auriana and Aethas. The silver-haired elf was certainly skilled, but he was no real match for the King of Stormwind. Varian had barely worked up a sweat; patiently biding his time until Auriana had won her own personal duel. The very second he saw Aethas succumb, he turned the full force of his skill and aggression onto his own opponent, and within the space of a minute, had emerged victorious.

Auriana closed her eyes as the paladin fell, and let out a slow, shaky breath. Her hands were trembling with effort, and for a brief second she felt her rage surge. Victory was a sweet thrill like no other, and there was a dark part of her that wanted to keep fighting; to _really_ give the crowd something to scream about. Her heart felt as if it might beat right out of her chest, and if not for her many years of practice, she might have lost control.

"Your Majesty?"

Auriana's eyes flew open, and she turned slightly to her left to see Aethas staring down at her with a thoughtful expression. He had smoothed his long hair back into place, and if Auriana hadn't known better, she would have assumed he had performed a task no more strenuous than a leisurely stroll about the Tournament grounds. He certainly didn't look like a man who had just fought an intense duel, and Auriana vaguely wondered whether his heart was pounding as hard as hers.

"You don't fight like a mage."

Auriana glanced pointedly up towards the stands, where the crowd was excitedly clapping and chanting her name.

"No," she remarked. "But you do."

Aethas's otherwise inscrutable expression slipped as an indescribable emotion darkened in his eyes - some surprise and perhaps a hint of respect, all together mingled with something a touch darker - though he quickly regained his composure. He frowned, then reached into the pocket of his robes, and - of all things to be carrying during a duel - offered Auriana a delicate silkweave handkerchief.

"Here," he said quietly, gesturing to her face.

Auriana touched a hand to her nose, and let out a soft snort of surprise as her fingers came away sticky with blood. It had been a long time since she had pushed herself quite that hard, and now that the adrenaline of the fight was no longer pumping through her veins, she realised just how exhausted she really was. Casting spells at the level of power and intensity that she had exacted a considerable physical toll, and Auriana knew she would likely be feeling the impact of fight for days to come.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, wiping away the blood in one smooth motion. "For the handkerchief… and for… for the match…"

Aethas nodded, and the faintest hint of a smile flashed across his refined, ageless features.

"Archmage," he said formally.

"Archmage," she replied, returning his nod with a similarly respectful gesture of her own.

Auriana's gaze followed Aethas as he turned away to collect his fallen partner so that they might make their exit, though she didn't immediately move from where she was standing. Her legs were trembling badly, and she feared that if she took a step forward, she would simply topple over.

Of course, she could not stay standing in the middle of the arena forever, and she was immensely grateful when she felt the warmth of Varian's broad palm close over her right shoulder. She leaned into him slightly, trusting that he would keep her balanced, and took another deep, steadying breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice almost _too_ soft to be heard over the crowd.

"I… I'm fine."

Auriana must not have sounded terribly convincing, for Varian's worried frown deepened, and his grip on her shoulder tightened. She was distinctly aware of the fact that they were on full display in front of hundreds of people, though for once she found she didn't really care.

"You're in control?" he pressed. "I was only half-watching, obviously, but that looked like one hell of a fight."

Varian sounded distinctly proud of her efforts during the duel, though it did not seem to assuage his concerns. It was clear that he had noticed the drying blood staining her nostrils, and equally clear that he found such a sight deeply troubling.

"I am," she assured him - and to a lesser extent, herself. "I promise."

Auriana stood up straighter in an effort to add believable weight to her words, though Varian still looked somewhat skeptical. Still, he declined to argue the point further, and instead slipped his arm through hers, so that he might escort her from the arena before the next match.

"Come on then, little champion," he murmured. "The day's not over yet..."


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Auriana**

Auriana's legs had stopped shaking by the time she made it back to the Alliance staging area, thankfully, though she had little time to properly rest. There were only three matches between now and their second duel of the day against the Darkspear trolls, and given that the length of each match was inherently unpredictable, she had no idea when they might be summoned back up to the arena to fight. After the intense physical and mental challenge of defeating Aethas, she would have much preferred to retire to her tent for a well deserved rest, but the Tournament waited for no-one.

Fortunately, there were plenty of replenishment potions on hand, as well as a large hunk of freshly baked bread that Auriana wolfed down with a voracity that would have put Varian himself to shame. She normally preferred to avoid eating right before a fight, but in this case she was willing to make an exception. She was going to need every last ounce of strength and energy she possessed to defeat the trolls, and she couldn't afford to become faint or shaky right in the middle of such a critical match.

Varian, too, seemed even more focused than usual - and Auriana suspected she knew why. He would deny it until the very ending of the world, but she knew he had always been a little jealous of Zala'din. Not because he suspected her of being unfaithful, of course, but because Zala'din had fought at Auriana's side far more often than Varian himself. Varian had always resented having to stay in Stormwind while Auriana had been fighting her way across Draenor, and she knew he would be keen to prove that he was just as worthy as her troll friend.

There was a strange swagger in Varian's step as they made their way back into the arena for their second fight. He was a physically imposing man at the best of times, but as he took his place on the northern side of the arena floor, it seemed to Auriana, at least, that he stood even taller than usual. His chiselled jaw was set in a heavy, determined frown, and he stared at Zala'din with the air of an especially disgruntled wolf.

For his part, Zala'din appeared to be sublimely unaware of the fact that he was the sole target of Varian's animosity. He was clearly well-suited to the life of a champion, and the crowd loved him for it. Unlike Varian, Auriana, or even Vol'jin, he lapped up the crowd's attention with a beaming smile; even going so far as to perform a few rather impressive flips and handsprings for their amusement.

Zala'din was so wrapped up in entertaining the crowd that he failed to notice the referee's attempt to attract his attention - not once, but _twice._ Of course, the crowd loved this even _more_ , and Auriana couldn't help but to let out a dry chuckle at his antics. Or at least, she laughed for a scant few seconds, until she saw the look on Varian's face.

Fortunately, he wasn't left stewing for much longer. Zala'din finally capitulated to the request of the referee, selecting two long, viciously spiked blades as his weapons of choice - and exactly as Auriana had predicted. She was sure that he was perfectly capable of fighting with other weapons, but given the choice, it seemed that he would always prefer his dual blades.

Varian, too, opted for a pair of twinned swords. Much as Auriana had chosen to fight fire with fire against Aethas, it seemed that he was also determined to beat Zala'din at his own game. Not that Auriana minded - he was remarkably proficient in all manner of weaponry, and she had the utmost confidence in his ability to show Zala'din how a _true_ warrior fought.

Auriana then made her own selection - frost magic - before Vol'jin completed the ceremony by choosing a slender, curving glaive. The glaive was, she understood, a typical weapon for shadow hunters, and she assumed that Vol'jin was more than capable of using the blade to deadly effect. He caught her eye as she watched him twist the glaive back and forth between long, dexterous fingers, and he gave her a short nod a mere second before the referee dropped a hand to start the match.

Varian was the first to move on the referee's signal, barrelling across the arena towards Zala'din as if the troll were a red flag to a bull. They came together with such force that Auriana heard it even from the other side of the arena, and the _crack_ of their impact was so loud that she was certain someone _had_ to have broken a bone - or five. She had no time to worry about the overt masculinity all but oozing from Varian and Zala'din's side of the floor, however, as Vol'jin abruptly came sprinting towards her with his glaive raised threateningly overhead.

Auriana had never before fought a shadow hunter, and certainly not one as talented as Vol'jin. He reminded her a little of a shaman, or perhaps a priest, though he interspersed his spells and hexes with skillful slashes from his glaive. He was surprisingly fast, perhaps in part because Auriana was mentally comparing him to a comparatively slow-moving priest, and she had to work hard to stay out of his reach.

Despite Vol'jin's skill, however, Auriana was confident that she would eventually prevail. She was tired from her duel with Aethas, but the self-doubt that had plagued her first match of the day was now a faint and distant memory. Her magic burned bright and eager in her veins, and she could not help the keen smile that spread over her face as she smoothly wove spell after spell.

Over the course of the fight, the distance between Auriana and Varian grew, though she kept careful watch over him out of the corner of her eye. He was winning, from what she could tell, though Zala'din was mounting a valiant defense. Admittedly, it was difficult to see precisely _what_ was going on, between the four whirling blades and the two enormous warriors who wielded them, but Auriana more than trusted Varian to hold his own.

In fact, the breaking point in the fight came sooner than Auriana expected. She didn't see exactly what happened, only that Zala'din was suddenly down on one knee, with Varian bearing down on him with his swords raised high. Zala'din was not one to surrender until the very last, however, and in an impressive display of athleticism, he just barely managed to turn Varian's blade and flip back and away.

Zala'din's desperate maneuver may have bought him a good amount of distance from Varian, but Auriana still saw a chance to finish what her dear husband had started - assuming, of course, that she moved fast enough. It was a considerable risk, and the timing would be tight, but if she were successful, she could almost instantly eliminate Zala'din from the fight. To that end, she immediately called a blizzard down upon Vol'jin's head; using the swirling storm to force him away so that she might turn the force of her magic on Zala'din. An orb of freezing ice then coalesced between her hands, and her eyes narrowed as she calculated the distance to her target. She assumed that Zala'din would continue to move away from Varian, and so carefully aimed her spell so that the orb would explode just _behind_ her troll friend, and cut off any chance of his escape.

What she did not count on, however, was that Zala'din might move _forward_. Between the certain loss promised by Auriana's spell and a likely but not quite so inevitable loss at Varian's hands, he chose Varian; abruptly changing tack and rolling forward over his shoulder. It was an awkward, graceless movement, and a sharp contrast to his earlier acrobatics, but it just might have kept him in the match. Varian was not quite close enough to punish his imbalance, and he had delayed Auriana just long enough for her blizzard spell to fade so that Vol'jin might rejoin the fight.

And join it he did.

Auriana gasped as she felt a potent shadow hunter curse slam into her body, and she swore as she felt her connection to her magic disappear. The magic was still there, of course, but there was now a dark, slippery barrier preventing her from tapping into the deep wellspring of her power.

 _Damn_ _. Too slow._

The silencing spell would not last forever, but it might just last long enough. Her initial plan had failed. Zala'din was already back on his feet and charging at her at full speed, knowing full well that she was now incredibly vulnerable, and she could see shadows gathering about Vol'jin as he prepared another curse. The fight had turned against her in the blink of an eye, and if she knew that didn't do something quickly, the trolls would have her very effectively pincered.

 _No time. No magic. No weapon,_ she thought darkly. _Unless..._

Auriana's feet were moving even before her conscious thought; propelling her across the arena as fast as she was able. Zala'din was hot on her heels, and while she couldn't outrun a troll with legs almost as long as she was tall, she _could_ get to Varian first. If the trolls thought they could take her out of the fight with one measly silencing curse, then they had another thing coming. Her near-loss against Aethas had reminded her that while she might not have been a perfect mage, she was dogged, and clever, and she would damn well be the last person standing.

"Varian!"

As Auriana ran, she made a frantic upwards jerking motion with her arm, desperately hoping that he would catch her meaning. They had practiced a number of unusual scenarios in their preparation for the Tournament, though none quite so unusual as the strategy she had in mind. Still, Varian had an uncanny instinct for reading her intent, and although it was clear from the sudden grimace that crossed his face that he thought she was insane, he complied with her frantic request nonetheless.

A sharp metallic clang echoed across the arena as Varian brought his twin blades together, providing something of a makeshift platform where the shoulders of each blade met. Under ordinary circumstances, this was was not a strategy Auriana would have considered, but with her magic still bound by Vol'jin's curse and the trolls closing in from both her right and her rear, she figured now was as good a time for improvisation as any.

Despite the admitted absurdity of her plan, Auriana didn't hesitate; charging towards Varian like a woman possessed. And then - at the very last moment, she leapt, pushing off her right leg and landing her left foot squarely on the cross of Varian's blades. She heard him grunt as he took her weight, and a second later her stomach leapt into her throat as he _thrust_ his blades upwards, using his incredible strength to turn her momentum and launch her high into the air.

For a split second, Auriana had a perfect, bird's eye view of Zala'din's slack-jawed expression as she flew; clearing his head by a good foot and a half. She had seen acrobats at the Darkmoon Faire perform similar feats, though they had done so with a great deal more grace and dignity. Auriana assumed that _she_ must have looked far more ridiculous than graceful; tumbling through the air with her arms and legs splayed like a frightened cat.

Still, the reckless move had worked, even if it wasn't exactly pretty. Auriana had been able to bypass Zala'din's onrush entirely, though _his_ surprise was nothing compared to Vol'jin's, who was suddenly forced to contend with a small human missile flying directly at his _face_. Auriana caught a brief glimpse of the Warchief's wide-eyed countenance right before she crashed into his chest; the force of her impact sending them both tumbling to the ground in a tangled mass of limbs.

While Auriana had the advantage of surprise, however, she knew it would not last for long. Vol'jin was unerringly quick, and she would have no chance of overpowering him once he regained his wits. Fortunately, years of grappling with Varian had taught her a great deal about fighting against opponents far larger than she, and she figured that now was the perfect opportunity to test her skills.

Time slowed down as Auriana kicked her left leg free of Vol'jin's bulk, and pulled herself upwards so that she was awkwardly sprawled over his chest with her hips half-straddling his own. In other circumstances, it might have looked as if they were oddly mismatched lovers, but there was nothing romantic about what Auriana intended to do. Taking advantage of the Horde Warchief's temporary dazedness, she then drove her knee hard into the soft flesh between his thighs. She had never seen a male troll naked before, though she assumed their anatomy was roughly the same as that of a male human - and equally as vulnerable.

Her theory was proven correct a half second later as Vol'jin's eyes practically bulged out of his head, and he let out a wordless yelp of pain. He also looked rather shocked, as if he couldn't quite believe that she had hit him _there_ , and Auriana felt the faintest twinge of guilt settle somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She had not broken any rules, but she _liked_ Vol'jin, and ordinarily she would not have resorted to such a low blow - had there not been a Tournament to win.

Unfortunately, while an effective means of buying more time, Auriana's initial strike was not enough to make Vol'jin drop his glaive. Even through his surprise and pain, he still clung doggedly to the blade's hilt, and Auriana knew she had only a few seconds to act before he retaliated. She couldn't overpower him, even with her entire body weight spread across his chest… but surely he had _other_ vulnerabilities.

Auriana reached out to snag Vol'jin's wrist as he raised his glaive to strike awkwardly at her back, but she did not attempt to resist his far superior strength. Instead, she used what leverage she had to change the trajectory of his arm and - unable to think of any better options - _bit_ hard into the sensitive flesh of the Warchief's hand.

 _That_ , at least, was enough to force his fingers to reflexively spasm open, and the glaive tumbled to the arena floor. Auriana gagged as her mouth flooded with the taste of blood and troll sweat, but there was no time to focus on her own discomfort - nor the look of sheer and utter astonishment on Vol'jin's face. She scrabbled for the glaive; the muscles of her stomach contracting as she threw herself upright at the same time. She yelled in triumph as her fingers closed over the cool metal, and with a flourish, she twisted the blade up and over before driving it down towards the centre of Vol'jin's chest.

Had they been fighting in earnest, it would have been a death blow. As it was, however, Vol'jin remained mostly unharmed, save for perhaps some bruising where the blunted tip of the glaive met his chest. It also felt as if they had been scrabbling around on the floor for an hour, though in reality the scuffle had probably taken no more than half a minute. The encounter had been no less intense for its brevity, and while Auriana could barely breathe, she knew there was no time to rest.

She rolled back to her feet the moment Vol'jin was teleported away, clutching the glaive's handle tightly with both hands as she stood. She had felt Vol'jin's curse fade the moment he had fallen, though it would take a few seconds for her magic to return to full strength. In the meantime, she wouldn't put it past Zala'din to use her temporarily weakness to even the odds. She and Varian now had a distinct advantage in that they outnumbered Zala'din two to one, but he was both swift and athletic, and she knew from experience that he was a skilled tactician.

That said, Stormwind's numerical advantage and their relative positioning and presented Zala'din with only two real options. Varian had kept him well occupied during Auriana's struggle with Vol'jin, though the two warriors had briefly pulled apart upon Vol'jin's demise. Zala'din _could_ re-engage Varian, and hope to defeat him or draw him away before Auriana regained her full powers, or he could attempt to take _her_ out in the same amount of time. Auriana guessed that he would choose her as the easier option, and was proven right a moment later as he spun on his heel and launched himself back towards her.

Auriana tightened her grip on her pilfered glaive, and crouched down to meet the onrushing troll. She was hardly an expert, but after more than a year of working with Varian on her weapons skills, she was confident that she could hold her own for at least a little while. The glaive was too big for her to wield comfortably with one hand, though she could more than manage with two. Certainly, if Zala'din expected her to be an easy mark, then he was in for a rude surprise.

He closed the gap between them in five swift steps; his long legs eating up the distance as if it were nothing. Zala'din had no idea that Auriana was competent with a blade, and she assumed - or rather hoped - that he would weight his charge expecting that she would blink away. It was difficult to remain still when facing down several hundred pounds of fast-moving troll, but she grit her teeth and held her ground… and at the very last possible moment, she struck.

As she had expected, Zala'din was moving far too quickly to easily stop. He had clearly anticipated having to continue to chase after her, and he lacked the grounding necessary to adjust to Auriana's unexpected lack of movement. She slashed her stolen glaive at his unprotected shins, and it was only through a feat of extraordinary reflexes that he was able to catch her blade with one of his own.

A look of sincere bafflement crossed Zala'din's face as he stumbled, and Auriana couldn't help but grin. There was no time to gloat, however, as he would no doubt regain his composure soon. Fortunately, Varian was already following up on Auriana's attack with a charge of his own; driving his shoulder into the troll's chest with a crushing force and sending him reeling backwards.

Auriana felt her magic surge back to full strength as she advanced in the wake of Varian's charge, but she made a split second decision to rely on the glaive instead. Even after a year of training weapons with Varian, she had yet to really fight anyone outside of the practice arena, and with the tempo of the fight now turned in their favour, she saw another unique opportunity to practice her growing skills.

Varian did most of the work, admittedly, but Auriana did her best to make herself as much of a nuisance as possible. She clung doggedly to Zala'din's heels as Varian pressed him back across the arena floor; hacking away at his back and legs and interrupting his rhythm at every turn. It was a testament to his skill that he lasted as long as he did, but eventually the weight of their combined assault was enough to overwhelm his defences.

Zala'din staggered as Auriana and Varian pinned him between two coordinated slashes, and Varian took advantage of the moment to relieve him of one of his blades. He then ducked smoothly beneath Zala'din's wild counterswing, and without hesitation, used his superior leverage to send the troll tumbling hard to the floor. He did not, however, finish him off; instead, he stepped away, and with a gracious, gentlemanly nod of his head, allowed Auriana to land the final blow.

"And there you have it, folks! Stormwind is once _again_ victorious, and we've all learned a valuable lesson - when life's problems are getting you down, just… throw a small human female at 'em..."

The goblin announcer's excitable cry echoed out across the arena, though even with magical enhancements, his voice was almost drowned out by the wild roar of the crowd. Auriana and Varian were still undefeated after facing about half the other teams in the Tournament, and the crowd loved them for it. Auriana raised the glaive over her head to acknowledge the cheers, though she indulged them for only a few moments before she dropped the weapon and turned to help Zala'din back to his feet.

He happily accepted her assistance, and offered her a broad, toothy grin as he clapped her hard on her back in thanks. It was a friendly gesture, but it was clear that he was more used to celebrating with other trolls than with human women half his size, and Auriana felt her teeth rattle in her head as his broad palm met the muscle of her shoulder with a resounding smack. It didn't help that she was already a bit shaky from having expended so much physical energy in such a short space of time, and she very nearly fell forward onto her face.

"Well fought, little lion," Zala'din enthused, just as energetic in defeat as he was in victory. "I gotta admit, I didn't see dat one coming. Where da hell did ya learn ta fight with a _blade_?"

"Where do you think?" Auriana replied archly, pointing over Zala'din's shoulder to where Varian was approaching from behind.

He no longer looked quite so threatening, perhaps because he had now proven himself in his victory over the trolls, though he continued to eye Zala'din with a particular sort of wariness nonetheless.

"Ya Majesty, " Zala'din said, turning his head slightly to acknowledge Varian's presence. "Tell me… what kinda man be throwin' his _wife_ around da arena like some kinda weapon?"

Varian considered the troll seriously, and gathered himself up to his full height. His expression was steely, and Auriana genuinely couldn't tell whether he intended to answer the question, or to censor Zala'din for his impertinence. Concerned, she gave him a stern, warning look, though his focus remained entirely on Zala'din.

"One who wins, obviously," he said finally, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.

Zala'din blinked. Tension swelled between them, and Auriana was just about to intervene, when Zala'din abruptly threw back his head and roared with laughter. The sound was loud enough to make Auriana jump, though it was nothing compared to the deep, resounding bellow that echoed from Varian's throat a moment later.

He very rarely laughed out loud, being far more prone to an amused smirk or a throaty chuckle, but when he did, he laughed with his whole body. In fact, his real laugh was so loud and raucous that it was actually rather alarming. Zala'din didn't seem to mind, though Auriana was forced to hide her smile at the shock on the faces of many a spectator. The King of Stormwind wasn't exactly _known_ for his jovial nature, and she was sure there were some people in the crowd who were genuinely surprised to learn that he actually _could_ laugh.

Varian and Zala'din shared in their amusement for some time, quieting only when Vol'jin approached to offer his own quiet congratulations, having re-entered the arena upon conclusion of the match. She doubted that they would ever be friends, at least not in the same way that she and Zala'din were friends, but she had always felt that duelling was one of the best ways to get to know someone. It was hard to hide one's true self in a fight, and she hoped that Varian could now see in Zala'din what _she_ had seen on Draenor - his sense of humour, his courage, and his forthright honesty.

The four of them then exchanged a few brief, polite words; Vol'jin making several wry comments about their use of unorthodox tactics. Auriana apologised profusely for biting him - and for _other_ things - but fortunately the Warchief seemed more impressed by her ingenuity and never-say-die attitude than he was annoyed. The match had been well fought on all sides, and both Varian and the two trolls agreed that all four combatants could leave the arena with their heads held high.

It was important, Auriana thought, that the highest respective leadership of the Alliance and the Horde were seen to be getting along, and it seemed that both Varian and Vol'jin had come to the same conclusion. They very deliberately remained in the centre of the arena while they conversed, where they would be clearly visible to all, and it was only at the behest of the referee that they finally departed.

Auriana was the last to leave the arena, behind Varian and the two trolls, though she paused at the exit gate where a bright flash of red and gold suddenly caught her attention. She bent down, and retrieved a small, feathered fetish from where it had caught between the floorboards and the wall. Up close, she could see the fine workmanship in the leather that bound the fetish together, as well as the detailed carving worked into the surface of the horn - or perhaps it was a tooth - that lay at the object's centre. Auriana didn't know what its purpose was, but it was reasonable to assume that it was important to one of the trolls, and she quickly resolved to return it to its rightful owner.

She caught up to Varian just as he stepped into the tunnel junction that separated the Alliance and Horde sides of the arena, and called out to get his attention.

"Varian! Wait."

"Auriana? What are you doing all the way back there?" he asked, turning slightly to look back at her over his shoulder. "I thought you were right behind me."

"I was, but…"

She held up the fetish by way of explanation, and gestured in the direction of the Horde tunnels. A strange expression crossed Varian's face as he caught her meaning, but after a few seconds of tense silence, he nodded. He was trying, she knew, even though making peace with the Horde did not come easily to him, and she was immensely proud.

"Be careful," he said simply. "And don't be too long, I'm starving."

"I would never dream of coming between you and your stomach, Varian," she said drily.

She flashed him what she hoped was a reassuring grin, then slipped off down the tunnel branch that led to the Horde side of the arena. Much like the Alliance side of things, the Horde tunnels were alive with noise and movement as champions, mentors and healers all swarmed around the narrow space. Auriana attracted quite a few curious looks as she pushed her way through the throng, though no one attempted to bar her path as she slowly surely caught up to Zala'din and Vol'jin.

"Zal! Hey!"

The big troll turned at the sound of her voice, and a small frown creased his heavy brow ridge. The tunnel had not really been made for beings as large as trolls, and both Zala'din and Vol'jin had to stoop slightly to avoid cracking their heads against the arch.

"Someting wrong, little lion?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"I think you one of you may have dropped this, back in the arena," Auriana explained, holding the feathered fetish out towards him. "I wasn't sure if it was something important."

"Musta been knocked off my belt when dat King of yours charged me into da wall," Zala'din sighed, taking it in his hands with a rueful smile. "All dese years I thought ya mighta been exaggeratin', but da man can fight."

"He's the best," Auriana agreed, unable to stop herself from beaming proudly at the acknowledgment of her husband's skill. "Although I hope he didn't damage your trinket. What is it, anyway?"

"Supposed ta be a good luck charm," Zala'din replied, sliding his fingers through the bright feathers. "Didn't seem ta do much good, though da _loa_ who blessed it wouldn't take too kindly ta me losin' it."

"Of course it not be doin' ya any good, mon. Even da _loa_ have no power to protect ya from da bite of a small human," Vol'jin added sagely.

His expression was so serious that for a brief moment, Auriana wasn't sure if he were describing a genuine tenet of troll religious lore, until his tusks twitched in a way that she had come to understand indicated amusement.

"Er… again… sorry about that," she said, a flush rising in her cheeks as she nodded apologetically towards his bruised hand. "Though you didn't really leave me with many other options. That was quite the curse."

Vol'jin's tusks bobbed once again as a sly grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, but before he could say anything further, their conversation was interrupted by a quiet, drawling voice echoing out of the dark tunnel behind them.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty."

Auriana's heartbeat suddenly accelerated as she, Zala'din and Vol'jin turned as one to behold Sylvanas Windrunner leaning casually against the tunnel wall a few feet away. She had snuck up on them in perfect silence, and Auriana had the uneasy sense that she had been listening to conversation for quite some time. Her blood red eyes shone with an intensity that belied the slinky nonchalance of her posture, and in truth her entire attitude was reminiscent of a hunting hawk or a prowling nightsaber. Nathanos Blightcaller skulked around in the shadows behind her, ever the faithful mutt, though Auriana's attention was fixed firmly on the Dark Lady.

"I… congratulations?" she repeated, just as thrown by Sylvanas's statement as she was by the sudden appearance of the woman herself.

She had never seen Sylvanas up close, much less spoken to her, and she was surprised at the strength of her own visceral reaction to the Banshee Queen's presence. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she felt suddenly cold, as if she had just plunged naked into an icy river. Every base animal instinct she had was screaming at her to run away, though she did her best to maintain an air of regal neutrality.

"Another victory under your belt," Sylvanas added, tilting her head thoughtfully to one side. "You're quite the talented little thing, aren't you?"

It was ostensibly a compliment, though Auriana had never before received a compliment that made her skin crawl. She wasn't sure she appreciated being called 'little thing', either, but now was hardly the time to let either her anger or ego get the better of her.

"Ah… thank you. It has been an honour to represent Stormwind in the Tournament," she replied.

Auriana worked hard to keep her tone even as she spoke, and she hoped that it was enough to mask her disquiet. Interestingly, Zala'din and Vol'jin appeared to be equally uncomfortable. They hid it well, but Auriana was not blind to the sudden tension in Vol'jin's posture, nor the way Zala'din's hand came to rest on the side of his belt, as if he were instinctively searching for a weapon. All their earlier friendliness had vanished, and they had both stepped forward slightly so that they were positioned _between_ Auriana and Sylvanas. Evidently, she was not an especially popular person, even amongst the members of her own faction.

"You're being modest, Your Majesty. Your victories were well earned."

The Banshee Queen's burning eyes gleamed, though her expression remained otherwise inscrutable, and it was all Auriana could do not to let out a small sigh of consternation. This was the part of politics that she hated the most; trying to discern someone's true meaning beneath layers of feigned politeness and artful doublespeak. She was slowly growing in confidence in her role as Stormwind's Queen, especially when it came to the practical affairs of running a kingdom, but she was certain that she would never quite master the delicate art of saying one thing and meaning another.

"Although… from one queen to another... I _would_ caution you not to let your aspirations exceed your grasp," Sylvanas added, her voice echoing in the space like nails on a chalkboard. "It would be such a shame to have come so far, only to stumble at the final hurdle."

"What?"

The word spilled from Auriana's mouth before she had time to think of something more coherent, and she silently cursed her lack of diplomatic nous.

"Overconfidence has ever been the bane of those who would be champions." Sylvanas paused briefly for effect, then added, "Great games were common in Silvermoon before the fall. I have seen more than one winning streak cut short by hubris."

Auriana's gaze flicked to Vol'jin, who was staring straight ahead with a fixed expression. On the surface, it was sound, relevant advice, but underneath, the words held a subtle animosity. Sylvanas was not stupid, far from it, and while Auriana doubted that she would attempt to sabotage Tournament relations right under the nose of her Warchief, it was clear that there was a great deal more left unsaid. She had sought out Auriana for a reason… spoken to her for a reason… though Auriana was damned if she could figure out what that reason actually _was_.

"You offer wise counsel, Dark Lady," she said, choosing her words with the utmost care. "I will be mindful, I assure you."

For the briefest half-second, Auriana thought she saw a hint of the banshee's fury stir deep within Sylvanas's eyes, but it disappeared so quickly that she wasn't entirely sure that it hadn't been a trick of the light, or perhaps her overactive imagination. Sylvanas declined to say anything further, however, and with a last, calculating glance in Auriana's direction, she gathered Nathanos and swept off into the darkness.

Auriana slowly released the breath she had been holding, though she waited until the Banshee Queen was well out of earshot before rounding on Vol'jin. With _him_ , at least, she felt she could be honest, and she made no effort to disguise her displeasure.

"What was _that_?"

"Da Banshee Queen has never been known for her… uh… tact," Vol'jin said slowly. "I am sure dat she did not intend to cause offence."

To his credit, he did not attempt to deny the fact that there had been more to Sylvanas's pointed commentary than the words themselves, but Auriana had no interest in carefully crafted platitudes. She had always valued Vol'jin's frank and straightforward approach to diplomacy, and she did not intend to allow him to change tack now.

"A lack of people skills is no excuse, Warchief, I know a threat when I hear one," she insisted, careful to keep her voice low.

Vol'jin returned her gaze steadily, save for the short glance he exchanged with Zala'din. Neither trolls' posture was quite as defensive as it had been when Sylvanas had been present, though they were both clearly still wary. It was a stark contrast to the camaraderie they had shared in the arena, and Auriana silently cursed Sylvanas for her interruption.

 _Always two steps forward, one step back..._

"Vol'jin..." she growled, then added more gently, "Please. I'm new to this game, but I'm not a fool. What's going on?"

She could appreciate that Vol'jin was in an awkward position. He could scarcely afford to openly criticise his allies in such a public place where they might be overheard, but nor could he allow the wife of the High King of the Alliance to suffer insult at the hands of one of those same allies - at least assuming he intended for the Tournament to succeed. To that end, even Auriana wasn't quite sure what she expected him to say, only that she needed to know _why_ Sylvanas seemed to consider her with such particular enmity.

Vol'jin cleared his throat, and shot an uneasy glance back over his shoulder. Auriana had not immediately noticed that the tunnels had cleared out in the time since they had started talking - perhaps owing to the start of another match in the arena above - but that didn't mean that they were truly alone.

"I been in da habit of takin' a walk around da grounds every evenin', just after sundown," Vol'jin said slowly. "Perhaps… ya might like ta join me? In da interest of interfactional cooperation, and all dat…"

He gave her a significant look, and Auriana nodded to let him know that she had caught his gist. He could not discuss Sylvana's motives right here or now, but it seemed that he was not entirely unwilling to talk.

"I'd be honoured," Auriana said sincerely. "I'll meet you outside the arena?"

Her ready understanding and agreement seemed to ease some of Vol'jin's concern, and she watched as he visibily shook some of the tension free from his hunched shoulders.

"As ya wish, Majesty," he agreed, no longer quite so wary, "Though for now we best be gettin' back ta our camp. Losin' a fight always makes me hungry."

He stood up straighter, and nudged Zala'din with his elbow.

"Zal?"

"I could eat da ass out of a low flyin' macaw," Zala'din declared, a hint of his earlier ebullience returning to his tone.

"That seems to be going around," Auriana snorted, thinking of Varian. "Though far be it from me to keep you from your meal. I've taken up enough of your time as it is."

She gave them both a short smile, though she made no futher comment as she turned and made her way back through the tunnels toward the Alliance side of the arena. Her mind raced with every step, but by the time she reached her private tent, she was still no closer to solving the mystery of Sylvanas's targeted enmity. Auriana had not expected friendliness, of course, given the Banshee Queen's fearsome reputation, though she could not understand how she might have attracted such personalised ire from a person she had never before met. It was not that she worried for herself, either, but rather how such an issue might affect the Tournament. Things had been progressing well so far, and yet Auriana was all too aware that it would only take one small incident to ruin everything they had worked so hard to achieve.

She sighed.

 _Whatever your explanation is, Vol'jin,_ she thought darkly, _It had better be good..._


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Auriana**

"What took you so long?"

Auriana had only just barely stepped inside the tent before Varian fell upon her, looming over her with his brooding features twisted into a heavy scowl. He was shirtless, having disposed of his plate, chainmail and undershirt on the bed, though he had not yet divested himself of his belt, pants, and boots. A flagon of mulled wine and a half-empty glass lay on a nearby table, and it was clear from the slight furrow worn in the canvas floor that he had been pacing quite extensively.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I got… uh… caught up," she said, placing a conciliatory hand on his bare chest.

Varian was warm, despite the cold outside, though his expression was anything but. Auriana knew him well enough to know that he was not actually irritated with her _per se_ , but rather that he was masking his fear with anger. He cared for her so deeply, and while she often found his overprotectiveness cloying, she could not fault his sentiment.

"I'm fine," she added quickly. "I promise."

"I was about to send Ridley out after you," Varian grumbled.

He pulled roughly away from her touch, and collected his wine from the table. His back was a mess of both fresh and aging bruises, courtesy of their time in the arena, though thankfully his movement seemed unhindered. Auriana always found it hard to see him hurting, even if such injuries were relatively minor, but she doubted he would appreciate her showing concern when he was already feeling cantankerous. Instead, she simply turned away, and set about removing her own dirt-stained armour.

"So. What was the hold up?"

Auriana's fingers slipped on the catch of her shoulderplates, as she wondered how best to explain her current predicament. She thought of trying to steer Varian gently into the difficult conversation, but after a few moments consideration, she realised there was little point in trying to soften the blow when he was going to take things badly regardless.

"I ran into Sylvanas Windrunner in the tunnels," she said lightly, keeping her back turned.

" _What_?"

Varian let out a strange, guttural growl from deep within his throat, and Auriana heard a dull thump as he slammed his wine glass back down on the table.

"By which I mean, she approached me. I didn't... seek her out," she clarified.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and was surprised to see genuine fear colouring Varian's expression at the mention of the Banshee Queen. She hadn't expected him to be _pleased_ by their unexpected encounter, given how much he worried, but there was clearly something deeper at work beyond his normal concerns for her safety.

"Varian? What's wrong?"

Auriana abandoned the pretense of fiddling with her armour, and turned back to face him. Varian's lips drew into a tight, thin line, and he stared at her, unblinking, for quite some time before he finally spoke.

"Sylvanas is up to something. Something that involves you."

He sighed.

"You should have seen the way she was looking at you after we defeated her rogues…" he added darkly. "I didn't say anything at the time because… well, it's Sylvanas. She's not exactly known for her upbeat personality."

He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, as if trying to relieve a particularly irritating crick in his neck, and cracked the knuckles of his right hand against his left palm.

"Before you start, I'm not just being paranoid. I know a threat when I see one."

"Actually, I agree with you," Auriana said softly. "She definitely has an interest in me, though I'm not sure why."

Varian's eyes narrowed.

"What makes you say that?"

"She sought me out, in the tunnels. And… ah…" Auriana cleared her throat. "She threatened me."

Varian let out a sharp hiss of fury from between his teeth. His gaze raked over her from head to toe, as if he thought Sylvanas might have already done her harm, and he squared his massive shoulders as if readying for a fight.

"She threatened you?" he repeated, his tone as chilling as the glacier outside.

"Not in so many words, but… yes." Auriana bit her lip. "She was saying all sorts of things about overconfidence and hubris and not overstepping one's bounds… it was definitely intended to be a warning of some sort, though I'll be damned if I can figure out what she _really_ meant."

Varian clenched and unclenched his massive fists, and glanced towards the tent door.

"I'll send for Shaw," he growled. "He can investigate."

"Varian, you know as well as I do that summoning your spymaster is unlikely to improve the situation," Auriana said gently. "The Tournament has been successful so far, we don't want to jeopardise that."

"Are you telling me you'd be content to remain here, none the wiser, while Sylvanas schemes?" he scoffed.

"No… but there may be another way to obtain that information without involving SI:7."

She took a deep breath.

"Vol'jin was present when Sylvanas confronted me. He knows something, and he's willing to talk. He invited me to take a walk with him around the grounds this evening… and I intend to go."

A myriad of emotions flashed across Varian's face - surprise, bafflement, disbelief - but in the end he settled on something halfway between anger and cold disapproval.

"You bloody well will not," he snarled. "Has it occured to you that this might be a trap?"

Auriana bristled at the implication that she was somehow incapable of assessing the potential risks and benefits of the situation, but did her best to remain calm. She was sympathetic to Varian's concern, even if she felt it unwarranted, and she genuinely _tried_ to control her growing frustration.

"You said it yourself - we need to know what she's up to," she said coolly. "Vol'jin's offer represents a way to do that without causing a scandal."

She could tell that Varian had no real counter to her argument, judging from the particular slant of his bushy eyebrows and the depth of the creases at the corners of his eyes. She doubted anyone else would ever notice, but she had long ago learned to read the subtle differences between his many scowls. Of course, the lack of a counterpoint was unlikely to make him any _less_ belligerent, and if anything would simply make him dig in his heels even further.

"If the Warchief wants to talk, _I'll_ go," he harrumphed.

"I don't think he'll talk to you," Auriana protested, shaking her head. "Not about this specific issue, in any case."

"But why does it have to be _you_?" Varian demanded, a faint note of pleading entering his voice.

Auriana brushed a stray lock of hair back over her ear, and gave a bemused little shake of her head.

"I don't know why, exactly. Perhaps I'm not quite so… intimidating."

Varian's eyebrows shot way up, and he barked out a single, skeptical laugh.

"Auri, I don't think anyone who has seen you fight these last few days would describe you as 'not intimidating'," he said drily.

It was a fair observation, and Auriana reluctantly conceded the point with a small shrug.

"All that aside, he… trusts me, I suppose," she reasoned, biting back a fresh wave of exasperation. "Varian, please. I think this is important."

"Do you trust him?"

It was a loaded question, but Auriana didn't hesitate.

"Yes. I do."

Varian snorted, and shook his head.

"And Sylvanas?"

"She's hardly going to shoot me in the back in the middle of what is essentially a peace summit," Auriana exclaimed, throwing up her hands. Sometimes, it was like talking to a wall. "She'd have both the Alliance _and_ the Horde after her if she did. Sylvanas is a lot of things, but I don't think she's that reckless. Or that… stupid."

Varian's frown deepened, and Auriana could practically _see_ his mind turning over as he considered every risk and possibility. He was a highly intelligent man, even if he sometimes downplayed that fact when it suited his purposes, and while he was clearly afraid for her safety, she hoped that his more rational mind would eventually win out.

"Fine. Take no more than an hour," he conceded finally, his voice flat and tense. "You are not to enter the Horde side of the camp; you are to remain in the designated neutral areas. If Sylvanas appears, you leave. If she attempts to follow you, you scream bloody murder until the Argents find you."

Even though she was pleased that Varian had given his consent, however reluctantly, Auriana could not help but to feel like she was on the receiving end of a dressing down. His tone was identical to the one he used with subordinates when they had done something _wrong_ , and she didn't like it one bit. She resented being spoken to as if she were a wayward child, and for a split second her temper flared as she finally allowed her irritation to get the better of her.

"Yes, Father," she snorted, rolling her eyes in a passable impression of Anduin.

She regretted the petty, barbed words the moment they left her mouth, but it was too late to take them back. An expression of genuine hurt flashed across Varian's rugged features, and Auriana immediately felt her cheeks blaze hot with guilt and shame. He was wrong to speak to her the way he had, true, but that didn't excuse her own poor behaviour, nor the fact that in her sharpness she had touched on two points that she _knew_ were sore for him - his relationship with his son, and the difference in their ages.

"I like that smart mouth of yours a lot better when it's not directed at me," he muttered.

He turned away, ostensibly busying himself with the task of pouring more wine, but Auriana knew it was really so that he could hide his face. She winced, cursing her quick temper, and rubbed a tired hand across her eyes.

"I… I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," she murmured, deflating. "I just… I know what I'm doing. I need you to trust me, and it _hurts_ when it seems like you don't."

She took a few tentative steps forward, and when Varian did not protest, rested her cheek very carefully against the powerful muscles of his mid back. He tensed at the contact, but did not immediately pull away, and even permitted Auriana to slide her arms around his taut waist. He smelled like smoke and leather; his broad back impossibly warm and comforting beneath her cool cheek, and as much as he sometimes drove her mad, Auriana knew she wouldn't change him for all the world.

"Varian? I…"

"You mean everything to me, do you understand? _Everything_ ," he muttered, his voice low and rough.

He knotted his hands with hers, pulling her closer against his back and clutching at her so tightly that there was scarcely a hair's breadth of space between them. The raw strength of feeling in his voice sent shivers up Auriana's spine, and the queasy feeling of regret that had settled in the pit of her stomach surged..

"I know I'm not the most romantic or demonstrative of partners, but that doesn't mean I don't… feel things. I can't lose you," he said fiercely. "I _won't_."

"Varian, I'm fairly sure you feel things more deeply than anyone I've ever met."

Auriana frowned, and leaned her head back ever so slightly.

"Is that really what you think? That I take risks because I don't know how much you care about me?"

Varian stiffened; the hard planes of his stomach muscles practically trembling beneath her hands, and it felt to Auriana as if she were trying to contain a mighty beast in a very tenuous cage. He did not make any attempt to answer her question, and Auriana decided that it would be wiser not to push. She didn't _want_ to argue, no matter how frustrated she might have been, and she hoped he could feel just how sorry she was through her touch.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Varian twisted in Auriana's arms so that they were standing face to face, and slid a hand around the back of her neck so that he might pull her close. It never ceased to amaze her just how safe and complete she felt in Varian's embrace, nor how much she treasured the steady thunder of his heartbeat in her ears. Even in the midst of a disagreement, there was nowhere else she would have rather been than with him, and from the careful, almost reverent, way he held her, she knew that he felt the same.

"C'mere."

Varian rested his chin on the top of her head with a long, gruff sigh. Auriana couldn't see his face, but she could tell from the way he leaned into her body that his eyes were closed.

"I trust you. I _do_. It's everyone else I have a problem with," he murmured. "Just… promise me that you'll be careful. You have a knack for trouble, and while everyone else at this Tournament might be wagering good money on the fact that you're invincible, that's not a bet I'm willing to take."

"I promise," Auriana said quickly. "And I really don't go _looking_ for trouble, you know."

"So you keep saying," Varian sighed.

He straightened, and slipped two fingers beneath her chin so that he might look her in the eye. His expression had softened, though not so much so that it eased the heavy crease in his forehead, nor the slight downward turn of his lips.

"You planned to meet the Warchief at sundown, correct?" he asked.

"Uh… yes, I did," Auriana confirmed, though she was somewhat confused by the abrupt change of topic. "Why?"

Varian answered not with words, but rather with a deep and lingering kiss that set Auriana's nerves on fire from her head to her toes. His fingers found their way into the knots of her hair, already pulling her braids free from their bindings, while he used his bulk to press her back across the tent towards their bed.

"Good," he rumbled. "That gives us at least a couple of hours, and I think we _both_ owe one another an apology, don't you…?"

* * *

Auriana left their tent about a quarter hour before sundown, after spending the rest of the afternoon tangled in Varian's arms. Their tender intimacy did much to improve both his mood and the lingering tension between them, though by the time she had dressed and pulled her boots on ready to leave, he had resumed his ill-tempered pacing. For a moment, Auriana even thought he might change his mind and forbid her from leaving, but in the end he had let her go with little more than a frown and a few hushed words of warning.

She walked from the tent swiftly, hugging her soft woollen cape about her body as she made her way out of the Alliance camp and down towards the arena. While the weather during the day had been pleasant and warm, the temperature had fallen dramatically with the imminent setting of the sun. The fires burning back in the tent did a great deal to offset the chill of the evening breeze, but out here, Auriana found herself immensely grateful for the well-knit warmth of her clothes and gloves.

A few curious stares followed her path, though by this time of night most people had retired to either their private tents or the common eating areas to celebrate the day's fighting with copious amounts of food and drink. Auriana was especially pleased to see that the beer tents that had been set up in the neutral parts of the camp were full to the brim with light, laughter and good cheer. It was slow going, perhaps, but she had the distinct sense that the Tournament really _was_ working to bring people together in the way that they had all hoped, and she smiled to herself as she ducked around a group of carousing tauren and into the shadow of the colossal arena.

Vol'jin was already waiting outside when Auriana arrived; his bright red hair a burning contrast to the crisp white snow beneath their feet. Much like Auriana herself, the troll Warchief had also come dressed for the weather, with a thick pelt draped over his broad shoulders and upper body. It was strange to see a jungle troll in such heavy attire, but she supposed that they were not as used to the cold as their cousins amongst the Drakkari.

Vol'jin acknowledged her approach with a brief nod of his head, and beckoned for her to join him under the protection of the eaves.

"Good evening, Warchief," she said.

Had he been another human, she might have offered him her hand, but she wasn't sure how such a gesture might be received by a troll. Up close, he seemed a tad on edge - but in fairness, so was Auriana herself.

"Ya Majesty." Vol'jin gestured towards one of the side entrances that led into the arena tunnels. "I thought we might take a turn around da arena floor."

"I didn't think you could get back inside after the place was closed for the day," Auriana remarked, though the Argent guard manning the door made no effort to bar their path as they slipped inside.

"Not da stands. But champions are permitted access to da floor if dey wanna strategise or what have ya," Vol'jin explained. "Da wards prevent da use of magic without da Argents ta supervise, but ya can walk around."

Auriana raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I must have missed that notice. Though, admittedly, I was so involved in the organisational side of things that I didn't really look through the guidelines for champions all that thoroughly."

It wasn't a lie. She and Varian had made the final decision to represent Stormwind rather late in the process, having gone back and forth several times on how such a decision might be received, and what kind of political message it might send. In an effort to maintain neutrality, the specific rules and guidelines for champions had also mostly been developed by Tirion Fordring, with the Kirin Tor providing insight on magical matters. It was an extensive document, and Auriana had skimmed over most parts that didn't directly relate to what was and was not permissible in a fight - including, it seemed, some of the privileges awarded to nominated champions.

"Clearly," Vol'jin snorted, then added, "I'm pretty sure it be against da rules ta bite ya opponent on da hand."

His sharply pointed nose crinkled as he shot her a sly grin, and he waved a bandaged hand in Auriana's face.

"Ah, see, that I know for _sure_ is a legal move," she insisted.

"I suppose I ought ta be thankin' da loa dat ya human. Tiny teeth, and all dat," Vol'jin mused, baring his own sharply pointed cuspids.

"They didn't seem so tiny when I was making you squirm in the arena," Auriana shot back.

For a second, she thought she might have overstepped. Vol'jin's brow twitched, but after a few moments he let out a low chuckle; a throaty, barking sound that Auriana nevertheless found rather catching.

"Ya pull dat move again, and dere is gonna be trouble," he said, shaking his tusks in playful warning.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm not in _any_ rush to taste sweaty troll a second time..."

The light banter helped to ease the tension in the air as they made their way through the darkened tunnels, and after a brief inspection from the Argent Crusader guarding the eastern gate, they were permitted entry to the arena floor. It was still and silent without the roaring crowd, and Auriana was surprised at how just how dull the place seemed in the absence of all the pomp and pageantry that accompanied a match. It was, however, a very good place to speak in private, and she could see why Vol'jin had suggested that they come here.

"It seems smaller," she remarked.

She took a few steps out into the centre of the floor and spun around in a full circle, her skirts flowing smoothly around her ankles as she turned.

"How does it feel ta be undefeated?"

Vol'jin paced around to her to the left, though he remained at a respectful distance. There was a slight hesitancy to the way he moved, and Auriana abruptly realised that he was just as afraid of offending her as she was of offending him.

"Honestly, it's a lot of pressure," she confessed. "I try not to think about it too much."

Auriana looked down at the floor, and saw a patch of dried blood poking out from beneath her boot. It was most definitely not hers - she hadn't yet been made to bleed so copiously - but it was a stark reminder of how quickly one's fortune in the arena could turn.

"Ya fight well," Vol'jin remarked. "I remember watchin' ya fight on Draenor… I thought ya were impressive den, but with Wrynn watchin' your back, ya might just be unstoppable."

As he spoke, he made his way across the floor towards the outer edge of the arena. Auriana moved to follow, and after a brief pause before one of the enormous Darkspear banners draped from the stands overhead, they began to traverse a steady path around the floor.

"No one's unstoppable," she murmured. "If I believed that, I think I'd be dead by now."

"Still, da pair of ya might come close."

Vol'jin then hunched over so that he and Auriana were more of a height, and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Don't tell Zala'din I told ya dis, but he's spent da last few hours complainin' about dat King of yours."

"Oh?"

"Says he's never met anyone who hits dat hard. Or moves dat fast. Insists da match was rigged," Vol'jin confirmed.

"I can assure you, that's all Varian," Auriana said proudly, "... but you didn't bring me here to discuss our match."

She didn't want to push, but neither did she want to waste time. Varian was expecting her back within the hour, and even if he _hadn't_ set a time limit on the length of the discussion, the longer she and Vol'jin remained in a public space, the more likely it was that they might be discovered or overheard.

Vol'jin seemed to have been thinking along a similar line. He drew to a halt, and his gaze darted around the arena as if expecting an eavesdropper to jump out at any moment. His shoulders had once again grown rigid with tension, and he champed at his tusks with the air of a skittish beast.

"No. I didn't," he said warily.

"Am I going to have to beg?"

Vol'jin sighed, and resumed his slow pacing. Auriana followed patiently a half step behind, but after they had completed nearly a quarter lap of the arena, she began to fear that the Warchief might have changed his mind. He was taking just as much of a risk as she in being here - perhaps even more so - and while it would be a great disappointment, Auriana couldn't really blame him if he had developed cold feet.

"What do you know of Sylvanas?" he asked finally.

"She was the Ranger-General of Silvermoon. She fell during the Scourge invasion of Quel'Thalas during the Third War, and was raised as a banshee by Arthas himself," Auriana recited, after a brief pause. "She broke free of his control, and declared herself queen over the other renegade undead who pledged to her cause."

She felt a little like she had when she was a child again, recounting names and dates for her fastidious and exacting grandfather. He had always considered the study of history to be the most important academic endeavour, and had attempted to instill a similar belief in Auriana from a young age. She had never taken to the topic in quite the way he had hoped, but she had, at least, developed a good memory for historical information.

"Dere are many people on Azeroth who have lived tragic lives, though Sylvanas's story is more tragic dan most," Vol'jin said slowly, nodding. "Still… I questioned Thrall's decision ta let da Forsaken join da Horde, all dem years ago. Dey have proven dere worth to da Horde many times since den… but dey don't tink like da livin'."

Auriana remained silent as the Warchief gathered his thoughts. She still hadn't the faintest idea why she had become a target for Sylvanas's enmity, but at least Vol'jin was talking.

"I tink Arthas took more dan just Sylvanas's life," he continued, his voice heavy. "I tink he took her soul, too. He took away everyting dat made her… well, livin'. He took away anyting dat wasn't hate, or anger, or a desire for revenge. I don't tink she's even capable of feelin' anythin' more than that."

Auriana frowned as a wave of pity washed over her, followed quickly by a wave of guilt. She had never seen Sylvanas as a pitiable creature - in general, the Banshee Queen was far too cool and intimidating to arouse such emotion - though perhaps that was because Auriana had never really given the matter proper thought. She understood what it was to feel rage better than almost anyone alive, but she also understood love, and laughter, and happiness, and she couldn't even imagine a world in which all those wonderful things had been lost to her.

"I… I'm ashamed to say I've never really thought about what the Forsaken have lost," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I mean, I've thought about their lives, obviously - I had family in Lordaeron - but I suppose there's a lot more to life than simply… existing."

There was a time, after Theramore and Garrosh Hellscream's escape from his trial in Pandaria, when Auriana had felt a bit like a Sylvanas herself. She had closed herself off to almost everything that wasn't rage or a thirst for vengeance, and if not for Varian coming into her life, she realised, there was a very good chance she would have continued to drown in that pit of her own making. Sylvanas, on the other hand, had no choice; no light or love at the end of that long, dark, tunnel...

"Monsters be everywhere if dat's all ya willin' ta see."

Vol'jin's quiet voice pulled Auriana out of her brooding thoughts, and she glanced upwards to see him staring, not at her, but off into the far distance. His tusks gleamed in the pale, dying light of early evening, and he suddenly looked very old. She also got the sense that he was no longer talking about the Forsaken alone, but before she could ask him exactly what he meant, he continued.

"But I'm not really here ta give ya a lecture on da history of da Forsaken… or ta garner ya sympathy. My point is dat Sylvanas long ago forgot what it was like ta feel love… and I tink she tends ta assume most others see da world da same way she does: through a veil of suspicion and distrust."

"That's unsurprising, if somewhat… depressing," Auriana murmured. "Though I still don't understand what Sylvanas's history has to do with me?"

Vol'jin considered her seriously, and he chose his next words with great care.

"Ya marriage ta Varian Wrynn caused quite da stir amongst the Horde."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought anyone… cared."

Auriana was not trying to be glib. She _understood_ the interest in her marriage on the Alliance side of things, even if she hated being the subject of such intense scrutiny, but she couldn't really think of a reason why the Horde might be interested beyond idle gossip.

"It was not da Horde who have met ya or fought wit ya that were concerned…"

"... but Sylvanas was," Auriana realised, slowly beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle into place.

"Yes," Vol'jin confirmed. "And she can be quite persuasive when she wants ta be."

"Persuasive about _what_?" Auriana huffed, letting out a soft snort of frustration. "I still have no idea what I've done to offend her… aside from marry Varian, I suppose."

She blanched.

" _Please_ don't tell me it's because she has some kind of… unrequited romantic feelings for him."

"Uh… I dun know about _dat_ ," Vol'jin muttered, clearly as disturbed by the possibility as Auriana herself, "But ya marriage be exactly da problem, at least da way Sylvanas sees it."

He scratched awkwardly at one of his tusks.

"Ya were born in Lordaeron, yah?"

"I was, yes," Auriana said slowly.

It was another abrupt change of topic, and she wondered whether Vol'jin was deliberately attempting to throw her off.

"And ya family… dey were prominent nobles?"

"On my mother's side, yes," Auriana confirmed, raising an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

She was genuinely surprised to learn that Vol'jin knew so much about her past. It was not some great secret, but once again she could not quite fathom why the Horde would ever be interested in such information.

"Da Scourge destroyed da city, but not its history. Not of all it. Ya would be surprised ta learn what kinda records are still kept in da Undercity. Da Forsaken were human, once. It is dere history as much as it is yours, and dey guard it jealously."

Auriana had always assumed that most of Lordaeron's history had been destroyed during the Scourge, but now that Vol'jin mentioned it, she supposed it made sense that at least some of it had survived. After all, the Scourge were not like mortal armies. Arthas had come to the city to sow terror and to raise more bodies in the service of the Lich King, and she doubted he would have been overly concerned with destroying birth records or history books.

"Well, that explains where you're getting your information from," she conceded, "But not what is has to do with Sylvanas."

"I'm gettin' dere." Vol'jin took a deep breath. "This be why I wanted ya ta understand her way of thinkin', first. She cannot conceive of a world where Varian Wrynn - alone for nearly twenty years - would marry for love. What she _can_ understand is a world in which da king of da humans marries a woman with perhaps da best livin' claim ta the throne of Lordaeron."

" _What_?"

It was not an especially queenly exclamation, but Auriana didn't care. Whatever she had thought Vol'jin might say, the idea that Varian had only married her out of a desire to reclaim the lost throne of Lordaeron was perhaps the last thing she ever would have imagined.

"Arthas Menethil is dead, and his line died with him. Ya family might not have been da kings and queens of Lordaeron, but from the records Sylvanas uncovered, it seems dey were da next best ting," Vol'jin elaborated. "Am I wrong?"

"Well, no, but… I mean… there are other families with similarly strong claims…" Auriana stammered.

"And how many of dem are _already_ queens, with da armies of Stormwind at dere command?" Vol'jin's eyes gleamed. "Da majority of Lordaeron's nobility was wiped out by da Scourge, but dose dat survived are unlikely to challenge ya claim."

Auriana pinched the bridge of her nose.

" _This_ is why Sylvanas seems to hate me so much? She thinks… she thinks Varian married me because he wants to use me to reclaim _Lordaeron_?"

Vol'jin paused. He had been open with her thus far, but Auriana was well aware that he was going far beyond what his allies might consider either necessary or appropriate. Certainly, Sylvanas would see it as a betrayal, and for the first time Auriana truly appreciated just how much he was risking to give her answers.

"Not just Lordaeron," he said finally, his voice low. "Ya one of da most powerful mages in Dalaran, and a good friend of Jaina Proudmoore. There be a strong possibility dat she might one day name ya as her successor."

Auriana made to protest, the sting of the Kirin Tor's recent decision regarding her status within the organisation still fresh in her mind, but Vol'jin lifted a hand to silence her before she could speak.

"Wrynn already effectively holds the loyalty of Gilneas through his friendship with Genn Greymane, and dat alliance could be strengthened further by da marriage of his son ta Greymane's daughter," Vol'jin added, counting off each point on his fingers as he spoke. "From what I hear, ya also have Kul Tiran blood in ya veins. Dey have sat alone on dere island for a good long while now, but perhaps dey would be more likely ta rejoin da Alliance if dey knew da reigning queen was one of dere own."

"I… I haven't been to Boralus since I was a child…"

It was admittedly a weak protest, and certainly Vol'jin did not appear at all convinced.

"Dat's not really da point, and ya know it. Alterac and Arathor be long dead, but through his marriage ta you, Wrynn could reforge what remains of da Alliance of Lordaeron, and unite humanity into a single empire under his rule," he concluded. "An empire dat would drive da Forsaken - and by extension da Horde - out of da Eastern Kingdoms."

"That's really what Sylvanas thinks we intend to do?"

"Anyone who has seen ya together knows exactly why Wrynn married ya, but Sylvanas no longer understands love," Vol'jin said, shrugging. "Not really. So she went lookin' for a better explanation."

Auriana bit her lip in consternation, her mind racing as she tried to come to terms with such startling new information. She had never in her life considered that she might serve as some kind of lynchpin in Varian's plans to conquer the Eastern Kingdoms, though she supposed there was a certain kind of logic to the idea. Her grandfather had long bemoaned the fact that if not for a small twist of fate, _their_ family dynasty would have ruled Lordaeron in place of the Menethils, and she could hardly deny her connection to the other human kingdoms. In fact, the more Auriana thought about it, the more convincing Sylvanas's argument became, and for the briefest of moments even _she_ began to doubt whether Varian had married her entirely out of love…

"Wait… Sylvanas… had she sold this theory to the other leaders of the Horde?" she asked, forcibly pushing her more troublesome thoughts to the back of her mind.

"Not in so many words. I had ta do some diggin' ta find out as much as I have," Vol'jin admitted. "But she has planted da seed of suspicion amongst our allies, yes. Some have questioned Wrynn's motives in attending da Tournament."

"That's insane," Auriana muttered. "I barely wanted to be the queen of one bloody kingdom, let alone _five_..."

She had not intended for Vol'jin to overhear, but it seemed his sharply curved ears were more sensitive than she had thought.

"Perhaps," he said, his eyes gleaming, "But consider da matter from Sylvanas's perspective. She has always lived in fear of da Alliance marchin' north ta take back her city."

"Isn't that largely the reason _why_ she and her people joined the Horde? The threat of your reprisal keeps her safe, while she provides you with strategically positioned territory close to the Alliance heartland," Auriana reasoned.

Vol'jin shook his head, and let out a great sigh.

"Dat's da short of it, but if Wrynn were to properly unite da five surviving kingdoms under his control? After everyting we have suffered of late… first Garrosh Hellscream tearin' da Horde apart, and den da siege of Draenor... ta have fight a land war on a continent thousands of miles away from our strongholds? Well… I'm not entirely sure da Horde could stop ya. At least not right now."

The admission had cost him something, Auriana could tell, and once again she was reminded of just how much he was risking by talking to her.

"I suppose I can understand why Sylvanas is so afraid," she said truthfully, "But does she have any idea how many things would have to go our way for that to happen? Reuniting the remaining human kingdoms under a single ruler is far easier said than done."

"But it not be entirely out of da question," Vol'jin countered.

"No, I suppose it isn't," Auriana murmured.

For a brief, startling moment she pictured herself as a conquering queen, ruler of one of the greatest empires that Azeroth had ever seen - and just as quickly, she dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. She had no desire for that kind of power, no matter what Sylvanas might have thought.

"It _does_ explain a lot of the things she was saying, at least. Warning me against overconfidence and my reach 'exceeding my grasp'."

She snorted.

"Funny how that makes a lot more sense once I actually know what the hell she's on about."

"Dis be Sylvanas's flaw," Vol'jin agreed. "She tinks everyone sees da world as she does. Dat dey be motivated by da same tings."

Auriana's chest tightened, and for the second time that day she found herself feeling oddly sympathetic towards Sylvanas. She knew pain, yes, and anger, but the idea of holding onto so much hate and rage that one could not conceive of a world ruled by anything else was almost unimaginable. How must it feel, she wondered, to see nothing but threats in every shadow, and to assume that everyone and everything around you wanted nothing but your death...

"That's why she brought the rogues, isn't it?" she realised abruptly. "It's a test. She's trying to figure out if she can kill me."

Vol'jin shifted his weight uncomfortably, but he did not utter a denial.

"I don't tink she would dare move on ya at da Tournament," he said slowly. "She's not stupid - and she's not da kind to act prematurely."

"But she is watching… and learning," Auriana concluded.

"Yes."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Auriana suspected that she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it in Vol'jin's own words.

"I did not start dis Tournament on a whim. I believe in what we be doin' here. It be important ta me that we succeed… and I won't be havin' _anyone_ threatenin' dat. Not someone from my side of tings, not someone from yours," he rumbled. "Azeroth has had so few chances for a true peace. I will not allow Sylvanas's paranoia ta stand in da way of what we're doing here… or Varian Wrynn's, for dat matter."

Vol'jin stood up to his full height as he spoke, and his voice was rich and compelling. Auriana had often seen some of her own doubts reflected in the Warchief, the sense that he considered himself similarly unworthy of the people that he served, but in that moment nothing could have been further from the truth. He was determined, strong, and self-assured; everything that a true Warchief ought to be, and Auriana felt her respect for him grow tenfold.

"If ya understand Sylvanas's motivations in context, I figure ya be less likely ta take offense… or ta do someting we might all live ta regret."

"Not to mention that telling me gives you deniability," Auriana pointed out. "Were Sylvanas to act, this conversation is proof that she did so without the authority of the Horde."

A flash of surprise crossed Vol'jin's face, and she could tell that he hadn't intended for her to see through his deeper motivations so easily.

"Someting like dat, yes," he admitted.

Auriana came to a halt, and reached out to place a tentative hand on Vol'jin's massive forearm. He started in surprise at her touch, but did not pull away, and for a long time they simply stared at one another; the diminutive human queen and the mighty troll Warchief just about as starkly opposite as two beings could be. Despite their differences, however, he had just shown enormous faith in Auriana, and she wanted him to know how much she respected and appreciated his trust.

"Varian has no intention of moving on Lordaeron," she said firmly. "Of that, I can assure you."

Varian was not there to provide confirmation, of course, but Auriana was certain that he would have told her if he were secretly planning to conquer the Eastern Kingdoms. At the very least, she doubted that he would have put so much time and effort - and money - into the Tournament if he intended to undo all that hard work by sending an invasion force northwards immediately after. Fortunately, her declaration seemed to be enough for Vol'jin, who nodded firmly in agreement, and even went so far as to briefly close his his large, three-fingered hand over Auriana's own. He was clearly relieved by the successful turn of their conversation, and doubly so to learn that she and Varian had no intention of confirming Sylvanas's worst fears.

Eventually, Auriana pulled away, and together they resumed their slow turn about the floor.

"I'm impressed, you seem to know a lot about human history," she remarked.

Her statement was intended as a light compliment, but Vol'jin did not seem to have taken it that way. His tusks turned downwards in a small frown, and he looked at her ever so slightly askance.

"For a troll?" he snorted.

"I didn't say that," Auriana said quickly.

"No, but ya were tinking it."

The Warchief's eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was a tendency, Auriana knew, for some in the Alliance to view the Horde as bloodthirsty and unintelligent; in some cases little more than animals. She had never held that particular prejudice - or so she had thought - but now that Vol'jin had drawn her attention to the matter, she realised that her surprise was, at least in small part, based on the fact that he was a troll.

"I... you might be right, actually," Auriana admitted, the tops of her ears reddening in shame. "I'm sorry. Really."

"Ah, ya not da first. My people are smarter den a lot of people give us credit for."

Vol'jin shook his tusks, and Auriana could see a fierce pride burning in the depths of his reddened eyes.

"I am da Warchief of da Horde," he added firmly. "It is my duty ta understand both my allies and my enemies. I read, I listen, I learn… and I see a _lot_ more dan people tink."

Something in his tone made Auriana think that he was no longer referring to her or the Alliance alone, and she wondered whether he had faced similar prejudice from within the ranks of the Horde. She had studied the Horde extensively, both in her capacity as a commander of Alliance military forces, and then again as the wife of the High King, and she knew their internal politics to be just as complex as their relationship with the Alliance.

"Are we enemies?" she asked softly.

Auriana bit her lip as she awaited Vol'jin's answer. She still had decidedly mixed feelings about the Horde as a whole, but she _liked_ the Warchief, and she genuinely hoped that he did not see her as a foe.

"I don't tink so. I would hope not," Vol'jin offered. "I tink de Alliance and da Horde have come a long way… even if we still got a long way ta go."

"I agree. I think the Tournament has really…"

Auriana cut off as Vol'jin abruptly grabbed her arm, and pulled her to a rough stop.

"Wait… can ya hear dat?"

"Hearing is not my strong suit, unfortunately," Auriana explained, rubbing her arm where he had grabbed her. "What is it?"

"It… it sounds like… drippin'..."

Their slow lap of their arena had brought them around to the northern gate. Auriana couldn't hear whatever it was that was bothering Vol'jin, but she dutifully followed as he loped over to the gate and began to search for the source of the noise. Personally, she did not find the sound of dripping to be all that concerning - likely it was just some icicle melting - but apparently it was of more concern to Vol'jin.

Auriana grew somehow even _less_ concerned when Vol'jin's impromptu search of the north gate revealed nothing more than loose bit of paneling. The damage to the wood seemed to have been done recently, it was true, though Auriana would not have put it past a frustrated champion to throw a punch at the wall after losing a match. The damage was also not severe enough to have required immediate attention, and she was willing to dismiss it as nothing more than a bit of natural wear and tear - until Vol'jin decided to pull back the damaged wooden panel to reveal a small, curious object hidden in the wall cavity.

 _Damn._

"We need to leave," she said flatly, already backing away.

The device a crude creation of glass and metal that looked a bit like a malformed hourglass, or two funnels that had been placed at ends to one another. The top chamber was nearly empty, though a few drops of a strange, silvery liquid still clung to the curves of the glass before dripping slowly into the chamber below - ostensibly the source of the noise that had so bothered Vol'jin. The lower chamber, in contrast, was almost filled to the brim with a second, darker liquid that grew stormier with each and every drop that fell from above. Auriana's heart began to race.

"Why?" Vol'jin asked, thoroughly nonplussed.

"Because I'm fairly sure that's a bomb…"

Auriana reached out to tug urgently on his arm, but the Warchief was having none of it. He actually leaned in closer, though he was at least not so foolhardy as to actually attempt to touch the damn thing.

"Are ya sure? It don't look like a bomb..."

"Trust me, I get blown up a lot," Auriana said shortly. "Look, I'd be happy to explain how it works later, but right now we _need to_ _run_ …"

She hauled on his arm with most of her weight, and this time, thankfully, he moved. Within seconds, they were both flat out sprinting towards the relative safety of the southern gate… but their efforts were too little, too late.

Auriana initially felt, rather than heard, the bomb detonate, as she was pummeled from behind by a wave of intense heat and pressure. The sound followed soon after, a low rumble that quickly turned into a dull roar. Her body was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, only to come crashing downwards all too fast. She cried out as her knees slammed into the hard wood of the arena floor, and then, mercifully, the whole world went black.

* * *

"Auriana?"

Auriana groaned as she regained consciousness, her entire body protesting the indignity. She was lying face down on the arena floor, splayed out on her belly with her cheek pressed against the rough wooden slats. Her ears were ringing horribly, and she felt as if her lungs had been flattened inside her chest. She could still feel her hands and feet, thankfully, though she felt as if she had been run over by a herd of rampaging tauren.

"Auriana!"

For a moment, Auriana thought that the explosion must have addled her brain. Vol'jin had been the only person with her when the bomb had detonated, and yet the voice calling her name sounded nothing at all like a troll. It was deep and commanding, but lacked the characteristic timbre and accent she had come to associate with the Horde Warchief. Confused, she decided to dismiss the sound as a figment of her imagination, and instead turned her head to the left an attempt to locate Vol'jin.

"Auri! Don't move!"

The voice rose in pitch and urgency. Auriana blinked, and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a person - or was it a group of people? - standing at one of the arena gates. They seemed very far away, almost impossibly so, and she had to strain to make out even the largest and most obvious of shapes.

"V-varian? What are you doing here?"

"We heard the explosion, we came to find you," he explained, speaking low and very slowly. "Auri, I need you to listen. Are you badly hurt?"

Auriana closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She wanted to vomit, and she couldn't understand for the life of her why Varian was standing so far away.

"I… no. I don't think so. A bit bruised, and… and… my head hurts… but… I think I can get up..."

"No!"

Varian's urgent shout boomed off the arena walls - and Auriana quickly realised _why_ he sounded so panicked. The moment she had pressed her palms against the floor in an attempt to push upwards, the entire thing had _shifted_ ; creaking ominously beneath her weight and threatening to send her tumbling down into nothingness.

"The explosion damaged the integrity of the arena floor. There's a very real chance that it will collapse, so I need you to stay as still as possible. Do you understand?"

Auriana nodded once, and then went very still. In the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled that the arena had been destroyed once before, during the original Argent Tournament. A group of champions had fallen through the floor and had been forced to face off against the risen crypt lord Anub'arak, in a trap cunningly set by the Lich King. Auriana had not been there at the time, but she remembered all too well the stories soldiers told about the skittering things that lurked in the Icy Depths beneath the Tournament grounds...

"Vol'jin…" she gasped, forcing her thoughts back to the present. "Is he…?"

"He's alive, but still unconscious," Varian confirmed. "We have a rope… we're going to slide it out to you, alright?"

"I… alright."

There was something _wrong_ about Varian had just said, but Auriana couldn't quite put her finger on exactly what it was that bothered her. She was finding it difficult enough to remain conscious, and even harder not move. She was very _aware_ of the way the floor roiled and creaked every time she took a breath, and it took every ounce of self control she possessed to remain still.

That said, Auriana could not resist the urge to look around for Vol'jin. Her heart in her throat, she very carefully turned her head to the right, and let a short sigh of relief to see him lying on his side about six or seven feet away. He wasn't moving, but if Auriana tilted her chin ever so slightly up and away, she could just make out the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Unfortunately, it also meant that she could see the extent of the damage done to the arena in the explosion. The northern gate had been utterly obliterated, as had most of the surrounding floor. A dark, yawning chasm now loomed where the gate had once been, and every now and again another piece of shattered wood broke off and fell away into the gloom.

Auriana shuddered, and closed her eyes.

She was not especially afraid of heights, but it was all well and good to say that when one was _not_ currently suspended over an icy abyss, with the floor threatening to collapse at any moment. Her head was also throbbing incessantly, and with her eyes closed, it was awfully tempting to just forget everything and go to sleep. Varian was a competent person, her muddled mind reasoned, and surely would be able to enact a rescue without her help...

Auriana was startled out of her reverie by something hard and knobbly pressing against her shoulder, and she very carefully turned her head back towards Varian. True to his word, he had managed to procure a length of rope as thick around as Auriana's wrist, and had slid it ever so carefully across the floor to her position.

"Take the rope, and wrap it around your arm," he instructed, speaking very slowly and clearly. "If you fall, I'll catch you."

"If I fall…" she repeated vaguely. "But what… what about Vol'jin?"

Varian let out a quiet growl of frustration, and gave the rope a gentle jerk to keep her attention.

"Right now, I'm worried about you. We can't risk moving Vol'jin while he's unconscious, but we _can_ ensure that you are safe."

"Why don't you just wake him up?" Auriana suggested, genuinely surprised that someone as intelligent as Varian had failed to consider such an obvious solution.

There was a pause as Varian conferred with someone in the darkness behind him, though Auriana could not make out the words. It hurt her head to try.

"We've been trying, but he's unresponsive," he explained, as if he were speaking to a child. "Hell, it took us over half an hour just to get through to _you_."

 _Half an hour_? Auriana shook her head slightly. Varian had to have been mistaken. The explosion had happened only a few minutes ago… hadn't it?

"Auri, I know it's hard, but I need you to listen. Really listen," he added, his voice softening. "The floor could collapse at any moment, and we need to secure _you_ while we try to wake Vol'jin. The rope won't go any further, you need to grab it."

"I can reach him," she murmured.

"What was that?"

Auriana blinked, and called louder, "I can reach him."

"Auri, _do not move._ "

The tension and fear in Varian's voice was palpable, but to Auriana his concern seemed rather unimportant and very far away. The floor seemed to be holding, at least for now, and she could hardly afford to abandon Vol'jin when he was unconscious and vulnerable. She was also very light, and she figured if she could just wriggle a couple of feet to her right, she could, in theory, reach both Vol'jin _and_ the rope…

"I can… I can do it," she repeated, more to herself than anyone else. "I am _not_ going to let him die."

"Auriana, you stubborn, pig-headed... just _grab the damn rope_!"

Auriana's breath hitched in as she abandoned the rope entirely, and ever so slowly wormed across the floor, moving no more than an inch at a time. She could distantly hear Varian calling her name, but she stubbornly ignored him in favour of her delicate task. Even as dazed as she was, she knew she could not in good conscience allow the Warchief to fall without even _trying_ to rescue him - especially not at an event specifically designed to promote peace between the Alliance and the Horde.

Unfortunately, Auriana soon realised that she simply wasn't tall enough. Even stretching as far as she was able, she could not get close enough to Vol'jin to grab his arm whilst still being able to reach back and grab the rope. She was also acutely aware of the fact that she couldn't hold his weight for very long if the floor were to collapse beneath them, though she knew she would last a lot longer if she had him by more than just his fingertips.

"Vol'jin… please… wake up…"

Auriana swore, wishing she had some means by which to prod him awake… when she suddenly realised that she _did_. Very carefully, she reached into her hair and pulled a few long pins free from the knot of her hair. Her body ached from the smallest of movements, though she pushed the pain to the back of her mind as she lined up the pins so that she could flick them across the floor at the Warchief's face.

"Vol'jin," she repeated. "Wake up!"

It was not a perfect solution by any means, especially as it required movement, but Auriana figured it was better than nothing - and _certainly_ better than leaving Vol'jin to die. She swore as the first pin missed, her aim thrown off by the dull pounding in the back of her skull, but the second and third were right on target; pinging off Vol'jin's sharply pointed nose and chin. The fourth pin ricocheted off the top of his brow ridge, almost poking him in the eye, and he finally, thankfully, regained consciousness.

Regrettably, the Warchief's first instinct was to try to roll onto his back, and Auriana winced as she felt the ground shift violently beneath her belly in response. He was a lot heavier than she, and his movements had a correspondingly larger effect on the stability of the floor.

"Careful!" she shouted.

Vol'jin was no fool, even barely conscious, and he complied immediately. His red eyes widened as he took in the precariousness of their position, and he visibly relaxed his muscles in an attempt to prevent any undue strain.

"Take my hand," Auriana whispered, straining and her hand towards him. "No sudden movements."

Vol'jin was still about a foot away, though it felt to Auriana like a mile. He moved with painful slowness, and while it was exactly what she had requested, she found the tension of it interminable. The floor creaked threateningly with every half inch, and she began to feel light headed from holding her breath in fear.

After what seemed like an age, Vol'jin's long fingers finally found Auriana's wrist, and she gripped onto his forearm as tightly as she could. Of course, reaching Vol'jin was only half the puzzle. She now had to reach back for the rope whilst maintaining her grip on the Warchief - and it seemed that their luck had well and truly run out.

" _Auri_!"

The floor abruptly buckled, and as Auriana's eyes met Varian's, she realised that without a doubt it was going to fail. Throwing caution to the wind, she dug her nails into Vol'jin's arm and rolled her weight forwards, straining with her free hand in a last ditch effort to grab the rope. Her heart leapt as she briefly felt the rough brush of earthen strands against her fingers, but her hand closed over nothing but thin air. Auriana knew a split second of weightlessness as the floor at last gave out, and with a final, deafening crack, the Queen of Stormwind and the Warchief of the Horde went tumbling down into the darkness.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Varian**

Varian's evening meal had arrived only a few minutes after Auriana had left, but he wasn't much in the mood for eating. He had grabbed a hunk of bread as a small concession his rumbling stomach, but he had been unable to sit still. He had instead paced back and forth for over half an hour, hawkishly watching the entrance of the tent the entire time… until he had heard the distant boom of an explosion followed soon after by a thunderous crack.

Varian had learned a long time ago that if there was an explosion, Auriana was sure to be somewhere nearby. Sometimes he wished that she didn't have _quite_ such a knack for trouble, but of course such thoughts mattered very little when she was in immediate danger. To that end, he had paused only to throw on his boots before he sprinted from the tent, all but shoving his guards out of the way in his haste to reach the arena.

What followed after was now something of a haze. Varian had not been the only person who had heard the explosion, nor the only one who had raced towards the sound, though he had barely given anyone else a second thought. He had sprinted through the arena tunnels with a frantic urgency, and it was only thanks to the quick thinking of an Argent guard that he hadn't plunged headlong out onto the rapidly destabilising arena floor to reach his wife.

The sight of Auriana facedown and unmoving had sent icy shivers down Varian's spine. He had feared for her life before, but there was something different this time; something that chilled him to the bone. He had actually stopped breathing the moment he had first seen her; fear gripping him so tightly that it was almost paralysing.

Varian's terror had eased slightly the moment he had seen one of Auriana's fingers twitch, at least enough that he could move his feet. Of course, stepping onto the fragile, ruined floor would have likely spelled doom for the both of them, and so he was forced to settle for attempting to rouse her with his voice alone.

He had soon been joined by several others who had heard the explosion and had come to offer their assistance; Jaina the most important among them. Varian's heart had leapt at her arrival, hoping that rescuing Auriana would be a simple matter of lowering the anti-magic wards and teleporting her to safety… but it was not to be.

Jaina had paled at the sight of the damage to the arena, and had refused to even attempt to lower the wards. Varian had been incensed by her refusal, though no matter how he had yelled, she had steadfastly refused. She had done her best to explain why, something about damage to the runes and corrupted lines of energy, though Varian had found it difficult to follow. He cared little for technical explanations of magic, especially when Auriana's life quite literally hung in the balance, but in the end he had begrudgingly conceded to Jaina's desperate argument.

That was when he had called for the ropes.

The Argent guards had been quick to comply with his order, and had grabbed whatever rope they could find. Varian had redoubled his efforts to wake Auriana, and after about twenty minutes of shouting, he had finally been rewarded when she opened her eyes. She had been groggy, certainly, and probably injured, but she had been alive, and he had held out hope that she could be saved… right up until the moment the floor had finally collapsed and sent her falling into the abyss.

Varian had been ready to dive down into the pit the moment Auriana had disappeared, but had once again allowed himself to be dissuaded by Jaina's cooler head. As she had rightly pointed out, barrelling into the fragile pit with no equipment or plan was likely to cause more harm than good, especially without the aid of magic. Even in his blind panic, Varian knew it was unwise to risk the total collapse of the arena with a hasty, ill-conceived rescue attempt, and so he had reluctantly stalked out of the arena to regroup at the Argent Crusade command tent.

Word of the bombing spread through the camp like wildfire. The full leadership of the Alliance rallied immediately at Varian's command, along with both Jaina and Anduin. Varian had no intention of letting his son out of his sight with a mad bomber on the loose, and he had breathed a short sigh of relief when Anduin was safely delivered to the command tent by no less than six royal guards.

The Horde, too, had quickly summoned their own leaders, including Varok Saurfang and a weary-eyed Thrall. In truth, _everyone_ appeared unusually informal; all clearly having been roused from their evening meals with little time to don their more typical robes or armour. Lor'themar Theron, for example, was almost unrecognisable in a plush dressing gown, with his normally immaculately coiffed hair left loose and wavy over his shoulders. Saurfang was noticeably wearing mismatched boots, while Genn Greymane looked a bit like a wet dog with his freshly washed hair and moustaches still dripping water.

At any other time, Varian might have found it mildly amusing to see his contemporaries in their casual dress, but right then, he could not have cared less. His mind was filled with images of Auriana, grievously injured and lying at the bottom of a deep, dark pit, and he found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. He had seen real, raw fear in her eyes the moment the floor had collapsed beneath her, and he hated himself for not having reached the arena faster.

He had little time to dwell, however, no matter how preoccupied he may have been. The apparent loss of the Horde Warchief and the Queen of Stormwind was more than enough to set the entire camp on edge, and it seemed that neither the leaders of the Alliance nor the Horde were immune to the effects. Everywhere Varian looked he saw naught but outrage and suspicion - though he could hardly blame anyone else for their anger or wariness when he was feeling much the same himself.

"What were the Queen and the Warchief doing in the arena?"

Tyrande Whisperwind was the first to speak, her imperious voice echoing in the space with a sharpness that could cut glass.

"Is this some kind of trick?"

"No trick," Varian growled, his voice low. "The Warchief invited Auriana to take a turn about the grounds. He had a few questions regarding our match, and thought it was a good opportunity to demonstrate some… interfactional cooperation. Auriana agreed."

It wasn't entirely a lie. He was furious, and more than that, _afraid_ , but he wasn't about to start a war without any tangible proof of Horde treachery. If nothing else, it seemed unlikely that Vol'jin would have set off a bomb where he was also in the direct line of fire.

Unfortunately, Varian's explanation did very little to ease the heavy, palpable tension within the tent. The Tournament had been successful thus far, but a few days of goodwill was not enough to overcome years of mistrust - especially when there was a good chance that the bombing had claimed the lives of a Queen, a Warchief, or both. It also didn't help that the command space was rather cramped, and that there was barely enough room for one to breathe without bumping someone else's elbows or stepping on their toes.

"Can anyone else verify that story?" Jastor Gallywix piped up, his heavy chins wobbling as he glanced about the room. "I certainly didn't hear nothin' about the Warchief taking off on some kind of… walking tour."

"Surely you're not suggesting that the High King of the Alliance is a liar?" Genn snarled. "Or that Queen Auriana is responsible for the bombing?"

He was not in his worgen form, but the echo of the wolf gave bite to his words nonetheless.

"Well, someone is," Gallywix retorted, shrugging.

The Trade Prince's tone was nonchalant, almost bored, but his words were enough to ignite the powder keg that was the Argent command tent. Within seconds, the Alliance and the Horde were swept up in a bitter feud; each equally determined to place blame upon the other. The more temperate personalities present - Velen and Baine Bloodhoof chief among them - did their best to keep the situation calm, but their words fell upon deaf ears as the argument soon raged out of control.

"The Alliance would never stoop to such cowardly methods!"

"And the Horde would?"

"You have before!"

"What could we possibly have to gain from bombing our own Warchief?"

"Treachery! You lured us here under false pretenses! For all we know, this entire Tournament is a ruse!"

Varian's gaze found Anduin across the room, and he saw his son's face fall in dismay as he watched all their peacekeeping efforts begin to unravel. Anduin was an optimistic person, often to the point of naïvete, but there was little optimism in his expression as he watched the two factions bicker. He attempted to interject several times, but much like Velen and Baine, he could not get a word in edgewise.

For his part, Varian initially remained quiet, struggling to control his violently shaking hands and to ignore the sick, churning feeling in his stomach. Both the Alliance and the Horde needed him to act as a King, he knew, to take charge of the situation and turn the raging argument into something more productive, but he feared that if he opened his mouth, all his pent up rage and terror would come bursting out in an uncontrollable torrent that would do absolutely nothing to improve the situation at hand. He had more to lose than _anyone_ else in the room, and it seemed terribly unfair that he was once again expected to be a king first, and a man second. He could feel several eyes upon him, including Anduin's; all full of demand and expectation - and absolutely no regard for the fact that Auriana was not merely an ally or a fellow ruler.

She was his entire world.

Oddly, it was something that Baine said that finally broke him. Varian had been listening to the argument with only half an ear, so focused was he on trying to remain calm, but there was one short phrase that carried to him above all the rest.

"That's our Warchief down there!"

The tauren Chieftain had spoken with passion, not anger, and yet something about his words stoked the barely contained fire burning within Varian's heart. Vol'jin was highly respected and valued by his people as both a leader and a friend, but it was not the same thing. None of them _loved_ Vol'jin, not the way he loved Auriana; none of them were facing the possibility of losing someone they loved beyond all measure and reason...

"And that's my _wife_!" he roared, breaking his long silence with a mighty shout that made even some of his allies jump.

Anduin shot him a warning look, but Varian ignored him. His patience had been sorely tested, and while he knew he was not behaving in a strictly kingly fashion, he was finding it very difficult to _care_.

"Yes… you seem to bear an unhappy curse, Your Majesty," Sylvanas Windrunner drawled, speaking up for the first time.

Her eerie, echoing voice was quiet, but it nonetheless carried over the arguing as surely as if she had screamed. Her reddened eyes widened in an unnaturally innocent expression that didn't at all suit her face, while the faintest hint of a coy smirk turned her bloodless lips. In a single sentence, she managed to succeed where others had failed: her rasping voice alone enough to plunge the space into swift and uneasy silence as all eyes turned towards Varian.

"A… a curse?" he repeated, bewildered.

Sylvanas cocked her head to one side.

"You appear to have something of a knack for losing wives. How long has it been since your most recent wedding? A month? Two?"

An audible gasp rippled through the room and for a moment, Varian quite literally blacked out as a wave of pure, white-hot rage surged within him. Any lingering thoughts of propriety or kingliness were burned away in a second, and he was utterly consumed by a singular desire to _rip_ Sylvanas's oh-so-clever tongue from her mouth.

Varian gnashed his teeth with an animalistic snarl, and hurled himself blindly at the Dark Lady. He had no weapon on his person, as per Tournament rules, but it wasn't as if he needed one. He was far stronger than any single man had a right to be, and even more so when his fury was roused. He was certainly strong enough to crush the brittle bones and long-dead flesh of a treacherous banshee witch, and that was exactly what he intended to do. Sylvanas's first death at the hands of Arthas Menethil may have now become the stuff of legend, but her last death by Varian Wrynn would be by _far_ the more memorable event...

Varian grunted as he felt several pairs of hands impact his shoulders. It took him a few moments to realise what was happening, so blinded was he by the haze of red that had descended upon his vision, but it seemed that Baine, Malfurion and Saurfang had banded together to restrain him. Even between the three of them, however, they had their hands full against Varian's heedless fury. His fingers closed barely an inch in front of Sylvanas' throat by the time they were able to push him back, and he knew that if they had been a half-second slower, he would have snapped her neck.

"Sylvanas!" Thrall roared. "Enough!"

His voice cracked through the air like a whip, though Varian barely registered the words over the sound of his own heavy breathing and the thunder of his heart. His fingers twitched open and shut as he strained to reach his prey, his mind entirely blank save for the driving need to teach Sylvanas a lesson she would _never_ forget…

Which he would have done, if not for the three enormous warriors holding him back. Varian was uncommonly strong, but not strong enough to overcome a tauren, a night elf, and an orc working together. They were having a hard time of it, admittedly, but Sylvanas remained tauntingly just out of reach, her red eyes gleaming with a hint of cold satisfaction as she watched Varian struggle.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," she purred, all of a sudden the picture of contrition. "Merely a… sympathetic observation. I intended no offense."

Varian didn't believe her display for even a second, and he doubted Thrall did either. The orc very deliberately moved to stand between them, standing up to his full height and staring down at Sylvanas with a cold and implacable gravity.

"Given the sensitivity of the situation, Sylvanas, you may wish to keep any future observations to yourself," he said, frowning. "I am sure there is concern and confusion amongst our people - perhaps it might be best if you assisted the Argents in securing the Horde camp. A panic will help no-one."

It was outwardly phrased as a polite, diplomatic suggestion, but there was no missing the hard, threatening gleam in Thrall's eyes. He had no real authority over the Horde, not anymore, but it was clear that while he was no longer the Warchief, the memory of what he had once been still lingered in the minds of his allies. Even Sylvanas was not quite so bold as to risk angering him further, and she demurred for only a moment before sweeping haughtily from the tent without a backwards glance.

Varian let out a ragged sigh as the Banshee Queen disappeared, and roughly shrugged himself free of the hands holding him. Fortunately, for their sake, Baine, Malfurion and Saurfang were quick to let go now that Sylvanas was no longer within reach, and they stepped back warily as Varian shook the tension from his shoulders. It was almost physically painful to release so much surging fury from his body, but he had little choice. Now that the immediate surge of anger had passed, he was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was standing in the very centre of the tent, and that - deserved or not - he had just tried to outright murder one of the Horde leaders.

The red haze lifted fully, and Varian all of a sudden felt both incredibly restricted and incredibly exposed; like a fearsome beast locked away in a too-small cage for the amusement of the public. His ears burned hot with embarrassment at having been so thoroughly baited, and despite the fact that not a single person present dared to meet his gaze, he felt as if a thousand eyes were boring into him all at once. Part of him was sorely tempted to snap at all of them, to demand to know whether they were enjoying the show - the savage Lo'Gosh revealed at last - though the more rational part of his mind was still cognizant enough to realise that doing so would not help the situation in the slightest. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, then another, until he was no longer _quite_ so ready to rip someone apart with his bare hands.

"You have our deepest apologies, Majesty," Thrall said wearily, glancing briefly at the other Horde representatives. "It is a trying time for all of us - you most of all - and even though you would have every right, I hope you would not judge us too harshly for words spoken out of stress and fear and anger."

He gnashed his tusks, and gave a short, rueful shake of his head.

"I cannot say I would be as collected as you were it _my_ wife currently missing," he added softly.

Varian blinked, surprised by the sincerity in the orc's words. He had expected censure for his actions, not sympathy, and yet now that he looked around properly, it seemed that Thrall was not the only one who felt for him. The Alliance and the Horde may not have seen eye to eye on many things, but apparently, they could all agree that Sylvanas's comment had been beyond the pale.

"Perhaps… perhaps it _would_ be best if we were to… move on," Varian muttered gruffly, trying to ignore the dull pounding behind his left temple. "I am… that is to say… we are… everyone is on edge..."

He raked a hand through his unruly hair, and glanced sideways at Genn. Unlike the others, the Gilnean king had not made any move to stop him when he had charged Sylvanas, and Varian vaguely wondered if he had secretly hoped that Varian would succeed. There was no love lost between Genn and Sylvanas, and while Genn had behaved admirably throughout the Tournament thus far, it was still abundantly clear that he hated her with a furious passion. Even now, he was staring at the tent's exit with his top lip curled in a grim snarl, looking for all the world like a frustrated dog who had been denied the opportunity to chase its prey.

Varian cleared his throat, and squared his shoulders in an attempt to project at least _some_ measure of dignity and control.

"Genn… Thrall is right. People will panic, once word starts to spread. The last thing we need is a riot. The Alliance - they could use your guidance."

What he did _not_ say out loud, however, was that he also wanted Genn outside to keep a watchful eye on Sylvanas, and he silently hoped that the older king would catch his meaning. Between her threats to Auriana and her earlier comments, Varian trusted the Dark Lady even less than he usually did, and he certainly had not ruled her out as a suspect in the bombing. Such explosive methods were not typically her style, it was true, but that didn't preclude the possibility of her involvement. Varian would not go to war on suspicion or personal dislike alone, but until the situation was resolved, he intended to watch Sylvanas as closely as possible.

"As you wish, King Varian," Genn said formally; offering Varian a darkly significant look and a nod of understanding, before he turned on his heel and strode out of the tent into the chill night air.

A minute of awkward silence followed his departure, before Anduin took advantage of the sudden quiet to finally speak up and be heard.

"We need to focus on rescue efforts. There's no point sitting here and exchanging insults or arguing blame. What matters is getting _both_ of them home safely," he suggested earnestly.

Once again, it appeared that Sylvanas's actions had inadvertently worked to unify the two factions, even though Varian strongly doubted that had been her intention. The atmosphere in the tent remained tense, but the brief scuffle seemed to have brought everyone to their senses, and neither the Alliance nor the Horde looked quite so ready to go for each other's throats. A round of nodding and quiet murmurs of agreement followed Anduin's words, and those who had taken on combative stances when Varian had leapt for Sylvanas slowly began to relax.

"Prince Anduin is right," Baine agreed, shaking his horns. "The rescue attempt should be our highest priority. We all came to this Tournament because we believe in the possibility of peace. Let us not ruin the opportunity by bickering when we _should_ be working together to rescue our own."

"Are we missing something obvious, here? The Queen is a mage," Lor'themar reasoned, his good eye narrowing thoughtfully as he turned the conversation to more practical matters. "Surely the solution is as simple as lowering the ward and allowing her to open a portal. Assuming she is conscious, of course."

Lor'themar had not been among those who had immediately raced to the arena, and as such, was not yet aware of the problem with the anti-magic field - not that Varian really understood the issue, himself.

"Unfortunately, Regent-Lord, that isn't an option. At least, not an immediate option."

Jaina stepped forward into the centre of the room, and all eyes turned towards her. She had not participated in the earlier argument, nor the altercation with Sylvanas, instead watching from the back with a tense, weary expression, though it seemed that her expertise was now required. She was dressed in a dark grey woollen dress that was plainer than anything Varian had ever seen on her, and he could see the toes of a pair of soft slippers poking out from beneath her hem.

"What do you mean?"

"I briefly mentioned this to King Wrynn back in the arena, but I'm unable to lower the anti-magic field," Jaina explained, pursing her lips. "The explosion did significant damage to the runework inscribing the wards. If I try to take it down now, without first repairing the physical component of the spell, the whole thing is likely to explode - and that explosion will be a whole lot worse that the one you've just seen."

Lor'themar blanched.

"Define worse."

"Enough to vaporise anything within a ten mile radius - us included," Jaina said flatly.

"Why would it do that? Not ta question ya expertise, Lady Proudmoore, but that seems ta be a _wee_ bit of an oversight," Moira Thaurissan observed.

Jaina acknowledged the dwarven queen's question with a short nod, and tilted her head to the side in the way she always did when contemplating a particularly difficult magical conundrum.

"Actually, for the most part, the ward is working as intended. It was designed to be tamper proof, so that if someone tried to take it down by force, it would still hold."

She frowned.

"What I _didn't_ count on was such severe damage to the physical structure of the spell. I won't bore you with the details, suffice to say that runic magic is… finicky. Runes can hold and channel a great deal of magical energy, especially when used to create a spell as complex as an anti-magic ward, but that also makes them dangerous. If the rune forms are damaged or corrupted in some way, that energy is at risk of escaping. Frankly, we're lucky it hasn't happened already."

She mimed an explosion by forcefully pulling apart her fingertips, and her frown deepened.

"What if they could get around it somehow?" Lor'themar asked. "The field is not infinite, surely."

Jaina seemed reluctantly impressed by the Regent-Lord's consideration, and she gave him a long, thoughtful look.

"They _could_ simply walk outside the field, much as any of us could, though they would have to go a fair way," she mused. "The field is very large, to ensure that we are protected from all directions. It encompasses the Tournament grounds themselves, as well as some of the space above and below us."

"Would they know that?"

"Auriana would, at the very least," Jaina confirmed. "She would also be able to sense the boundary of the field were she to get close enough; any magic user could."

"That is assuming that they are alive, or conscious," Saurfang rumbled, his words echoing Varian's own grim thoughts.

Anduin shot Varian a sympathetic look, which Varian pointedly ignored. He didn't want anyone's pity, not even his son's, and he certainly didn't want to appear pitiable in front of the entire combined leadership of the Alliance and the Horde. It was taking almost all of his focus to remain calm, and he could not afford to be distracted.

"All that aside, how long will it take to fix the ward?" Tyrande asked, ever practical.

"I have a dozen Kirin Tor mages on hand, as well as Kalecgos," Jaina said slowly, turning over the calculations in her head. "I would estimate that it will take us… at least two days to stablise the runes, perhaps three… at which point I will be able to deactivate the ward."

"Two _days_? Jaina..."

Varian had not intended to speak, but the words burst from his lips faster than rational thought. As much as he hated to admit it, Sylvanas's biting comments had struck a nerve, and he felt altogether useless; standing around _debating_ while Auriana's life hung in the balance. Logically, he knew they needed a plan, but such thoughts did little to quell his desperate, primal need to have his wife back in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty. It's very delicate work, and not at all the sort of thing you want to rush - especially given that we can't actually use magic ourselves," Jaina winced, her voice firm but regretful. "All the rune work has to be corrected and redrawn by hand. It took us over a week to construct the ward in the first place, fixing it in two days with limited resources would actually be quite an accomplishment."

Varian dearly wanted to tell Jaina where she could stick her accomplishments, but he narrowly managed to bite his tongue. She did not deserve his churlishness, especially when she was trying her best to help. None of them did, save for perhaps Sylvanas, and yet he was barely able to hold himself back from venting his fury on the entire room.

"Varian… you know I will do everything in my power to save Auriana," Jaina added, her voice softening, "But not at the cost of hundreds of other lives. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be patient."

She glanced briefly at Thrall, who met her gaze for only a second before he looked away.

"I believe it would be best to suspend Tournament activities, at least for now," Baine suggested. "Lady Proudmoore needs time to repair the wards, and I doubt our champions will suffer for a few extra days of rest."

Much like Anduin, the tauren chief had a way of speaking that eased tensions and soothed tempers. He did not radiate the same ageless tranquility as someone like Velen, but rather a quiet, genuine earnestness that was not quite the same, though still effective in its own way. The mood in the tent continued to grow more cooperative the longer they debated, though Varian himself was still wound tighter than a coiled spring.

"Not like we can hold a Tournament with the arena destroyed, in any case," Gallywix chimed in, his enormous mouth turning upwards in a decidedly irritating smirk. "What are we gonna do, eh, float our champions over the pit with anti-gravity tech and have them fight in midair?"

Strangely, he did not seem perturbed by the possibility. If anything, his expression suggested quite the opposite.

" _None_ of this matters if we don't get them back," Varian growled heatedly. "I'm not sitting around applauding some damn arena match if my wife is still missing..."

He clenched his fists at his sides; digging his nails into his palms so hard that he almost drew blood. Gallywix was an odious little creature at the best of times, but in Varian's current mood, he was downright infuriating.

"And nor should you have to," Thrall said swiftly, quelling the goblin with a stern look. "The High Chieftain is correct. We will suspend all Tournament activities until such time as our Warchief and your Queen are found. We will turn our resources to the recovery effort, while Lady Proudmoore will attempt to fix the wards."

As much as Thrall clearly no longer desired to be Warchief, leadership was in his blood, and when he spoke, people listened.

"There are a number of my Farstriders here at the Tournament. They're fast, lightweight, and have experience in these kinds of delicate operations. I would gladly volunteer their services to begin the rescue effort immediately," Lor'themar said seriously.

"We should also summon some of our bomb specialists from Stormwind and Ironforge," Gelbin Mekkatorque piped up. "If we can learn more about the device, we may be able to figure out who set it."

"I will double the Tournament guard, and will have them thoroughly search the grounds for any further sabotage," Fordring added. "I will not allow another bomb to explode on my watch."

He spoke coolly enough, though there was a faint hint of anger beneath his words. Not at anyone in the tent, but rather at whoever had set off the bomb. Fordring clearly felt responsible, and frankly, Varian agreed. He had no intention of saying say out loud, but the simple fact was that the Argent Crusaders had been responsible for Tournament security… and they had failed.

"I will call some more of my mages from Dalaran. The sooner we can repair the ward, the sooner we can use magic to assist with the recovery effort," Jaina concluded, giving Fordring a small but encouraging smile. "Between us, I am sure we will soon have the Queen and the Warchief back safely."

Another time, Varian might have admired the way she was able to put her own personal feelings aside in order to cooperate with the Horde for the greater good. She had approached the Tournament warily and with great skepticism - not that Varian blamed her - and yet she had once again proven that she would capably do her job, regardless of the circumstances. She was still a naturally hopeful personality, despite everything she had suffered, and had Varian not been so hopelessly distracted by his own troubles, he might have offered her something more than stony silence.

As it was, Varian tuned out as the group continued to finalise their plans for stabilising the arena and finding Auriana and Vol'jin. He appreciated their efforts, and he supposed that it was better than arguing, but he had just about had his fill of talking for one night. His hands would not stop shaking, despite his best efforts to remain in control, and he bade a swift exit from the tent the very second it was appropriate to do so.

A light snow had begun to fall outside in the time the Alliance and Horde had been arguing. It was not a proper storm, though certainly enough to dust Varian's dark hair with a layer of crisp white snowflakes. The chill air was bracing, and Varian belatedly realised that in his haste to find Auriana, he hadn't grabbed a warm cloak. He shook his head in irritation, in much the same way a dog might shake the water from its fur, before turning and stomping off towards the arena.

"Father, where are you going?"

Varian glanced back over his shoulder, and saw Anduin jogging slowly through the snow towards him; his personal guards following at a close but respectful distance. Anduin had filled out a lot in the past year or two, but there was still a slight lanky awkwardness to the way he loped through the snow on feet that were ever so slightly too big for his body. He even slipped a little on the icy ground, kicking up a spray of snow and only just barely managed to right himself before plowing headlong into his father.

"Where do you think I'm going?" Varian grumbled, brushing a few stray ice crystals from his trousers. "I'm going to find my wife."

"What can you do that's not already being done?" Anduin asked, gesturing off towards the arena. "The Argents are already working to clear the debris, look."

He was correct. About a dozen Argent soldiers were now filing into the arena, several of them carrying an assortment of hammers and other large tools. Varian snorted dismissively.

"It's not the same."

"From what I understand, the damage to the arena floor was extensive. We cannot send climbers down until the worst of it is cleared, correct?" Anduin said patiently. "For all your many talents, Father, you're neither a builder nor an engineer. I'm sure the last thing you want to do is to risk crushing Auriana in a secondary collapse."

Varian let out a low, warning growl, though even he could admit that his son had a point. The arena may have been stable for now, but it would only take one hasty miscalculation to make things much, much worse.

"The Argents aren't going to work any faster with you huffing about and glowering at them, either."

"You don't understand. Not a damn one of you understands!" Varian snapped, thrusting a finger violently in the direction of the command tent.

The movement was enough to force Anduin to take a step backward, though he remained steadfastly standing at Varian's side as the snow continued to fall all around them.

"I… I'm not saying these things because I don't care, Father. Quite the opposite, in fact. I have told you this before, and I really wish you would listen: I don't love Auri the same way you do, but I _do_ love her."

He looked down at his feet, and his voice became so soft that it was almost a whisper.

"Do you really think I want to lose another mother? Because that's what she is, you know. Not by blood, and not… a… a replacement… but... she's my family just as much as she is yours."

Varian had no answer for that. He closed his eyes, and for a moment father and son simply stood in silence; save for the whistle of the wind and the distant chatter of people in the surrounding camps. The cold nipped fiercely at his cheeks, but in a way Varian found the sensation oddly comforting. If nothing else, the feel of the biting cold on his skin gave him something to focus on that wasn't his anger. It soothed away some of the fire still raging in his veins, and after a few minutes his heartbeat finally slowed to a normal rate for the first time since he had heard the explosion.

"What would you have me do?" he asked finally.

"Rest," Anduin said simply. "You're clearly upset - not that I or anyone else would have any right to blame you. What Sylvanas said was cruel, and unfair - and most certainly untrue. And the bickering… well, I don't think I don't think anyone was their best self in that tent tonight."

Varian heard the soft crunch of snow as Anduin shifted his weight from foot to foot, though he did not move any closer.

"Auri's tough. The toughest person I've ever met, certainly," he added, his voice warm with pride and affection. "I have no doubt that she can protect herself and Vol'jin long enough for us to mount a rescue… but that's not going to happen unless you let other people do what they do best. _Without_ interference."

Varian let out a low, noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement, and opened his eyes to see Anduin staring back at him with a wide-eyed, earnest expression. He sighed. Anduin's hopeful optimism was evidently irrepressible, and while in his darker moments, Varian occasionally found it a touch irritating, it was also one of the things he loved and appreciated most about his only son.

"Very well," he murmured, placing a broad palm firmly on Anduin's shoulder. "Let us return to the Alliance camp. We'll request further aid from Stormwind… and I will, as you said, leave people alone."

He tightened his grip, drawing on Anduin's own quiet strength as he stared at the long line of workers still streaming into the arena.

"Well, for tonight, at least," he amended. "If she's not returned to me by tomorrow… then I will tear this entire _glacier_ apart until I find her…"

* * *

Varian dreamed.

He was standing alone in the middle of his bedchamber in Stormwind; the stone floor smooth and cool beneath his bare feet. It was dark outside, but his chamber was well lit by a half dozen bright, flickering torches. His bed had been immaculately made, though the furs had been pulled back invitingly, as if suggesting he ought to lay down and sleep. Everything was warm, comfortable, and familiar, and yet he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was undeniably, irrevocably _wrong_.

A soft sound at the door drew his attention, and Varian turned. He expected to see Auriana, or perhaps Anduin - there was no one else who had permission to roam freely about his chambers at this time of night - and yet the person standing in the doorway was neither his new wife nor his son. In fact, it was just about the last person on Azeroth Varian expected to see.

Largely because she was dead.

Tiffin appeared to him exactly as she had a hundred times before; perfectly recreated from the soft shine of her golden hair to the exact lace pattern on her favourite nightgown. If Varian hadn't known any better, he could have sworn she had just returned from settling an infant Anduin in the nursery, ready to brush out her long, shining locks before slipping into bed at his side...

"Tiffin? I… this is impossible…"

Varian took a step forward despite himself, what remained of his rational mind protesting the entire while. He had hoped that the illusion would shatter as he grew closer; that there would be some mistake or imperfection that would remind him of what was real, and save him from treading down the well-worn path of memory and misery - but he was not so lucky.

If anything, Tiffin was even more flawless up close. The tiny beauty spot below the corner of her left eye was exactly as Varian remembered, as was the subtle blush of her cheeks and the remarkable cornflower blue of her eyes. The likeness was so uncanny that he almost forgot that he was dreaming, and it was only with great effort that he kept himself from drowning in her gaze.

"No. You're not real," he said flatly, shaking his head as he backed away.

"I was," she answered.

Tiffin's voice was quiet and musical, but it cut through Varian like a knife.

"I was very real. I was warm, and soft, and so _alive_ … until the day you killed me."

Her eyes darkened, and her face contorted in a cold, ugly expression that she had surely never worn in life.

"It… it wasn't my fault," Varian whispered, his chest growing uncomfortably tight as an all too familiar feeling of guilt and despair washed over him. "I didn't kill you, I _loved_ you, I would never…"

"Are you so sure?" Tiffin whispered, her words cutting deeper than any knife. "You didn't throw the rock, but you may as well have. I died not through any flaw or failing of my own, but because I was your wife. I died because you failed your people… because you failed _me_."

As she spoke, a dark, ugly wound blossomed on her left temple. Blood trickled slowly down the side of her face, and Varian felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He had never been the kind to be upset by the sight of blood or gore, but he now recalled all too well the sick, panicky feeling that had consumed his heart the moment he had seen that cursed rock hit her head.

"No…"

Varian reached for Tiffin's face with trembling hands, wanting to do something, _anything_ to save her… to fix what had been broken so long ago… but the moment his fingers found her skin, cracks blossomed across every inch of her golden skin. The cracks grew rapidly, like fissures in the quaking earth, and in less than a minute, everything that had once been Tiffin had crumbled to dust in Varian's hands.

" _No_!"

An anguished scream tore from his throat as he stumbled forward, desperately trying to catch the falling dust - as if it might have made any difference. She was gone, gone _again_ , and he was drowning; his chest constricting as if seized by an invisible vice...

"Why didn't you save her?"

A quiet voice broke the crushing silence. Varian whirled, his heartbeat pounding wildly in his ears, only to see _Auriana_ staring back at him with eyes that burned and chilled him all at once. She was dressed almost as Tiffin had been, in a pale, opalescent nightgown with the long waves of her dark hair tumbling free. She was beautiful, _radiant_ , even, and yet her appearance brought Varian little comfort.

"It all happened so fast… I couldn't… there was nothing I could do… you have to believe me..."

His wretched entreaty fell on deaf ears. Auriana looked as if she had been carved from stone for all the emotion in her eyes; like a cold and implacable goddess staring down upon him from a great height. Varian may have been the taller of the two in reality, but in that moment he simply felt _small_.

"Why didn't you save _me_?"

Auriana stepped closer, and reached up to snag Varian by the neck. Her nails dug into the soft flesh below his jugular, but the pain of her grip was nothing compared to the pain within his heart. As dispassionate as she appeared from a distance, up close he could see a terrible rage burning deep within her blue eyes. She blazed with fire and fight and fury… and all of it was directed squarely at him.

"I… I tried… the floor collapsed… but you're not dead… there's still time…" he choked.

"You failed me," Auriana scoffed, releasing his throat with a disdainful twist of her wrist. "Like you failed _her_."

She scuffed the floor with her bare foot, dragging her toes through the dust and ashes that was all that remained of Tiffin.

"No, Auri… _please_ …"

"It's all your fault!" she hissed. "You abandoned me! You _condemned_ me!"

Auriana's eyes suddenly came alive with terrible magic, burning so brightly that it hurt to look at her. For all she was one of the most powerful people on Azeroth, Varian had never once been afraid of her… until now. His kind, brilliant wife was entirely gone, replaced by a force of nature that seemed to want nothing more than his complete and utter destruction.

"No, Auri, I'll find you, I promise…"

Varian had never been the kind to beg, but he was filled with an inexorable sense of dread that was eating him alive from the inside out. He grabbed Auriana desperately by the shoulders, hoping to find _any_ hint or sign that the woman he loved was still in there somewhere… only for her to flinch away from him as if stung. Her lips twisted into a savage snarl, and she stared up at him with a look of utmost contempt.

"You weak, pathetic, _impotent_ man. You _never_ deserved me."

Auriana lifted her chin imperiously, almost as if she were issuing him a challenge, and the magical glow about her eyes blazed even brighter.

"Everything you love is destroyed, and it's all because of you. Your father. Stormwind. Tiffin. _Me_. Your love is a curse. _Your touch is a death sentence_."

As if Auriana's words were prophetic, her pale skin began to char and burn beneath Varian's hands - and _only_ beneath Varian's hands. He pulled away, horrified, but it seemed the damage had already been done. The char began to spread, first from her shoulders to her arms, and then slowly but inevitably to the rest of her body.

" _Auri_!"

Varian sat bolt upright as the scream tore violently from his throat, and he instinctively reached out towards the opposite side of the bed. Instead of warm, silky softness of his wife's skin, however, he found only coldness and emptiness. No comfort, no love… only silence.

He let out a long, shaky sigh in a futile attempt to slow his racing heart, and buried his face in his hands. It had been a long time since he had experienced such a horrific nightmare. His sleep had once been rife with them, especially in the months since Tiffin died, but over time had grown more restful and less fraught with terror. Auriana had helped a great deal in that regard, even if she didn't know it, and Varian abruptly realised just how much he had come to cherish and rely upon her steadfast presence at his side.

 _Your touch is a death sentence._

He shuddered. He absolutely hated to admit it, but Sylvanas's harsh words back in the command tent had bothered him more than he had ever thought possible… in large part because he feared that she was _right._ He never wanted Auriana to look at him with the kind of burning scorn she had shown him in his dream… but if her failed her, if she came to harm because of _him_ , then he knew she would have every right.

 _Everything you love is destroyed._

"Your Majesty?"

A quiet, worried voice called out from somewhere outside, though no one dared to stick their head into the tent. Evidently, Varian had screamed loud enough to attract the attention of his guards.

"I'm… I'm fine," he muttered hoarsely, then added, more loudly, "Stay at your post. Just a dream."

"As you wish, Majesty."

He lay back against the pillows with a throaty grunt, trying and largely failing to get the image of a charred and smouldering Auriana out of his mind. He could picture her in his mind's eye as clearly as if she had been standing next to him, and as for _Tiffin_ … seeing her so clearly in his dream had brought on a fresh wave of pain and grief, and he knew that if he allowed himself to wallow, he would never get out of the damn bed.

Instead, Varian ruthlessly pushed down his churning emotions to one side as he sat up and reached for the closest shirt he could find. There would be time for sadness later. Right now, he needed to _act_. Tiffin had been buried long ago, but Auriana… Auriana was still alive, and she needed him.

The shirt that Varian chose may or may not have been dirty, and in truth, he didn't really care. He stumbled around the tent grabbing whatever pieces of clothing were closest, with little regard for whether they matched or were even clean. He doubted that anyone _really_ cared what he looked like, save for perhaps his chamberlain, though he did pause long enough to splash a palmful of water over his face. He finished by tying his loose hair into a messy high tail, before grabbing his coat and sweeping from the tent.

Somewhat to his surprise, Jaina was waiting for him just outside, her pale blue eyes narrowed in an expression of deep concern. She appeared troubled, though still as quietly confident and composed as she always was. Varian certainly did not miss the way her gaze lingered on _his_ rumpled shirt and untidy hair, but fortunately for both of them, she declined to comment.

"Morning," he said gruffly.

"Good morning," Jaina replied, falling into step beside him as he immediately turned and strode off towards the arena. "I take it you didn't sleep."

It was a statement, not a question. Varian shrugged.

"Not really."

Jaina had to take two steps to keep up with every one of his, but Varian did not slow. Any other time, he would have made an effort to accommodate her, but today he was too anxious to reach the arena to care.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Varian closed his eyes, and for a brief second he was back in the grips of his nightmare, watching Auriana burn. He shook his head.

"Not really."

Mercifully, Jaina respected his wishes, and together they walked in silence across the Tournament grounds. Varian hadn't looked at the clock in his tent before he had left, but from pale golden light streaming over the horizon the he guessed it was not yet an hour past dawn. It had continued to storm overnight, and the ground was now completely covered in a good half a foot of crisp white snow.

Despite the early hour, the arena was already a hubbub of activity. Varian had sent word to Mathias Shaw at SI:7 the moment he had returned to his tent the previous evening, and it seemed that the Spymaster had wasted no time in making his way to Northrend with a group of SI:7 agents and 7th Legion soldiers to assist. Workers carrying ropes and tools and buttresses scurried back and forth, and he could distantly hear the sound of hammering and shouted commands.

Varian made to step into the tunnel to inspect their progress further, but Jaina stopped him with a gentle hand upon his arm, and steered him towards the steps that lead into the stands.

"You can get a better view of the situation from up here. Come on."

Varian was a tad reluctant, though he nonetheless followed Jaina as she led him up to one of the large private boxes with the best view of the arena floor - or rather, what was left of it. To his surprise, he found that Thrall, Baine and Tirion Fordring were already there waiting, talking quietly amongst themselves as they observed the flurry of activity down in the pit. They looked up as one as Varian and Jaina approached, and respectfully stepped aside to create room.

"Any word?" Varian asked, not bothering with any pleasantries.

"Unfortunately, no," Fordring said wearily. "Despite our best efforts, it appears that the explosion triggered a secondary collapse down in the pit. There is a great deal of rubble and debris to be cleared, and thus far we have found no sign of either the Queen or the Warchief."

It wasn't often that the Highlord showed his age, but in that moment he appeared as old as Varian had ever seen him - though not nearly as old as Varian _felt_. He looked as if he hadn't slept all night… which, Varian realised, was probably true.

"There's so much damage…" Baine murmured, carefully bracing himself against the balustrade as he leaned forward to look down into the darkness below.

As Jaina had promised, things were clearer from above. From his own vantage point, Varian could just make out a dozen or so dark shapes clinging to the sheer rock walls of the pit. As promised, Lor'themar Theron had volunteered a number of lithe, agile Farstrider rangers to assist in the rescue and recovery attempt, while the Alliance had provided one of their own elite scouting units from the 7th Legion battalion. Both sides had deliberately selected experienced, lightweight climbers so as to minimise the risk of any further damage while the rescue was attempted.

"Reconstructing the floor after the first collapse was a difficult task," Fordring admitted, following Baine's line of sight. "It was strong enough to meet the requirements of the Tournament, but not enough to withstand an explosion."

Varian remained silent as Fordring spoke, his gaze never leaving the pit. Aside from the search and rescue teams, he could also see a small group of Kirin Tor mages standing in what remained of the western gate entrance. Every now and then their faces were illuminated by a bright flash of blue, and he belatedly realised that they must have been attempting to fix the anti-magic wards.

"Jaina… I may be showing my ignorance here," he said slowly, "But why didn't the dampening field contain the explosion?"

"The ward only prevents the casting of _new_ spells, it doesn't interfere with existing magics," she explained, her pale brow furrowed. "I would assume the bomb was constructed outside the ward… perhaps even triggered there, with a long countdown timer…"

"Actually, I believe the answer to be even simpler than that," a small, high-pitched voice interjected. "The explosion was chemical, not magical."

Varian, Jaina, and the others turned in unison to see a female gnome walking across the stands to join them, her pink pigtails bouncing with each diminutive step. One of her cheeks was stained with grease, and she carried with her what appeared to be a badly dented hourglass. Varian had specifically requested a bomb expert when he had called on SI:7 for help, though he had not expected that they would have results for him quite so soon.

"Your Majesty," she said primly, raising her spare hand in a crisp salute.

"Agent Swiftfizzle," Varian replied, recognising her as the bomb technician who had assisted in the investigation of the assassin's bombs that had nearly killed Anduin and Auriana the previous year. "Thank you for coming."

The little gnome's bushy eyebrows quirked in surprise at his greeting, though she quickly regained her air of confident formality. Clearly, she had not expected him to remember her name.

"I am pleased to report that I have managed to successfully recover a majority of the bomb fragments and make a fair reconstruction of the device," she announced, gesturing to the dented metal object in her hands.

Up close, Varian could see the dozens of faint lines where the bomb had fractured and been stuck back together. It was an impressive piece of work, made even more so by the fact that it had been completed in such a limited amount of time. _He_ certainly would not have had the patience for such a task, even had he not been in such an irritable and impatient mood.

"Fortunately, the placement of the bomb within the arena wall structure insulated some of the blast, and made it easier to locate the fragments," Swiftfizzle added.

"That's insulated?" Varian snorted, glancing back towards the gaping black hole that was all that remained of the arena floor.

Jaina gave him a look. It was, unfortunately, a look that she had given him many times before, and one that clearly said: _you're not helping_.

"Agent Swiftfizzle, you said that the explosion was chemical, not magical," she said smoothly. "Could you explain what you mean?"

"Of course, Archmage. It's actually one of the simplest kinds of bombs you can make. You fill the bottom chamber with a reactive compound, and then you fill the top chamber with some kind of catalyst. The catalyst - in this case, mana-enriched liquid truesilver - flows from the top chamber to the bottom, and once a critical amount of the catalyst has mixed with the reagent in the bottom chamber, it explodes."

She made a rather violent gesture with her free hand, and the small action was enough to make Varian wince. Auriana had not appeared visibly injured, nor had she indicated as such in their brief conversation before her fall, but that did not preclude the possibility of internal damage. She had quite clearly been concussed, and he feared that her befuddlement may have hidden something far more sinister...

"There are far more potent and reliable methods of bomb making, though if you need to create a small explosion in a hurry, and you have the right materials, it'll do the job."

Varian shook himself slightly as Agent Swiftfizzle's continued commentary pulled him out of his troubled thoughts. What she was saying was important, no matter how frustrated he might have been, and he knew that his inattention would not help Auriana in the slightest. Discovering the truth of the bomb's origins was also likely to be the key to preventing an all out war between the Alliance and the Horde. Varian had certainly not been responsible for the attack, and nor did he believe that Vol'jin had any part in it, but that did not preclude the possibility of a rogue factional element or a third party.

Before Varian could make any further inquiries, however, they were interrupted for a second time by the arrival of a stocky, snub-nosed goblin in a stained pair of coveralls. Where Agent Swiftfizzle was the picture of professionalism in her neatly pressed uniform - save perhaps for her grease-stained cheek - the goblin looked as if he had just crawled out of a junkpile.

"Yes?" Varian asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"This is _our_ bomb expert, Frozz Fusebreaker," Thrall explained quickly, giving the goblin a welcoming nod. "A second pair of eyes never hurts."

Varian grit his teeth, but said nothing. He knew that Thrall had not summoned his own bomb expert with the intent to cause offense, but it was also clear that the Horde would not accept the Alliance findings at face value. All the goodwill that had been built up throughout the Tournament so far had been destroyed just as surely as the arena floor, and he found it difficult to ignore the nagging sense of futility that had settled in the back of his mind.

"Quite right, Warchief!" Fusebreaker said eagerly. "Er… ex-Warchief. Mister Thrall?"

Hia forehead creased in mild confusion, though he was soon distracted by the presence of the gnome at Varian's side.

"Ginnie Swiftfizzle! Hey, how you doin', smarty?"

His broad mouth pulled back into a wide, beaming grin, but Agent Swiftfizzle looked about as enthusiastic as if she'd just found cow dung on her shoes.

"Fusebreaker," she said flatly.

"You've met?" Varian asked, looking between them.

"Agent Swiftfizzle here published a research paper for _Tinkering Today_ on the relative merits of gnomish versus goblin methods of constructing hi-explosive bombs," the goblin engineer smirked. "I disagreed with some of her conclusions, and we... exchanged correspondence."

"You implied that I was 'three cogs short of a mechanohog'," Agent Swiftfizzle grumbled.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Fusebreaker protested. "I implied _nothing_."

He coughed.

"... I stated it outright."

Swiftfizzle's nostrils flared as she prepared to unleash a furious response, only to be immediately quelled by Varian's stern gaze.

"Ah… perhaps we would be better served by focusing on the task at hand. Don't you agree, Engineer Fusebreaker?" she amended quickly.

"Always happy to follow your lead, Agent Swiftfizzle."

Switfizzle scowled, but otherwise ignored the goblin as she carefully raised the reconstructed bomb so that everyone could see.

"In truth, Your Majesty, it's a very strange device," she continued, pointing to various aspects of the bomb's construction as she spoke. "It was crudely made, as if it were either constructed very quickly, or by someone who didn't _really_ know what they were doing - probably both. On the other hand, the materials used are of _very_ high quality. The silver casing here, for example, is jewellery quality."

"I concur," Fusebreaker agreed, his big ears flapping as he leaned into to study the device more closely. "Though it seems odd that an amateur bomb-maker would have access to such high-grade materials. I mean, why bother to spend that kind of coin if you've just going to do a slap job anyway?"

"A very good question," Swiftfizzle admitted. "What also puzzles me is the damage to the funnel between the chambers. You see here? The funnel bows inwards, reducing the size of the aperture. Based on the way it's moulded, I don't believe that occurred during the explosion; it appears to have been an error in construction..."

Despite her apparent dislike of Fusebreaker, it seemed that Swiftfizzle was still more interested in analysing the bomb than anything else. She had a demonstrable passion for explosives, and while Varian did not really _understand_ such a passion, he appreciated her dedication and her expertise nonetheless.

"Ah, yes, I see what you mean," Fusebreaker said, nodding. "I would estimate that it would have restricted the catalyst flow rate by approximately… half?"

He made to gently take the device from Swiftfizzle's hands, and somewhat surprisingly, she complied.

"I'd have to measure the funnel mouth to be sure, but yes, I believe half to be a reasonable estimate," she concurred.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Varian asked, thoroughly lost.

He considered himself to be an intelligent man, but he was damned if he knew anything about catalysts and flow rates and the like. He took _some_ small comfort from the fact that Jaina and the others looked about as confused as he felt, though he hoped that Agent Swiftfizzle would continue in plainer language.

"We don't think this bomb exploded when intended," she said slowly, a deep furrow forming between her bright pink brows.

"And what makes you say that?" Thrall asked, folding his arms across his massive chest.

"Well, from what I've been told, it seems like it was a coincidence that the Warchief and the little mage Queen were here when the bomb exploded," Fusebreaker reasoned. "If that's the case, then it stands to reason that the bomber had a different target in mind. After all, what's the point of setting off an explosion in an empty arena?"

He waved a hand at the huge, empty space around them, and shrugged.

"If the bomber was hoping to start trouble between the Alliance and the Horde, it _does_ seem a little counterproductive to set off an explosion hours after everyone had left," Jaina agreed.

"Unless they had a different motivation," Thrall countered.

Jaina arched a pale brow.

"What other motivation could there possibly be?"

Her voice was soft, and she met Thrall's gaze evenly, but Varian was not blind to the heavy tension between them. He was not the only one who had noticed, either, judging from the way Baine uncomfortably shuffled his feet and dipped his horns. Jaina and Thrall had been friends, once, but there had been a long time and a great deal of history since.

Fortunately for all of them, Agent Swiftfizzle was quick to break the silence.

"Ahem. As I said earlier," she continued smoothly, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air, "The construction of the device suggests that our bomber is inexperienced. We believe they made a fairly critical error in the construction of the chamber funnel, here."

"That's an understatement," Fusebreaker scoffed. "I'd say whoever made that thing is about as useful as a one legged Blingtron in an arse kicking contest..."

He barked out a loud, honking laugh, only to almost choke a second later as he caught sight of the thunderous expression on Thrall's face.

"Er, if you'll pardon the language, my lords and… and lady," he added, with an awkward half-bow in Jaina's direction.

Evidently, in taking the time to become an expert in his craft, he had missed out on a few important lessons in social skills.

"Skilled or not, whoever made this bomb still managed to do plenty of damage," Varian growled, biting back a fresh wave of irritation. "Agent Switfizzle - please continue."

"Have a look here," she replied, with a withering glance in Fuesbreaker's direction. "In a device like this, the size of the funnel acts as a crude timing mechanism - the larger the opening, the faster the flow rate of the catalyst, the sooner the bomb will explode. Does that make sense?"

Varian leaned forward so that he could better see what she was describing, and nodded.

"Well, the bomber didn't do a very good job of moulding the funnel. The base here is bowed, instead of being all nice and circular, like you'd expect."

"The imperfection slowed down the rate at which the catalyst mixed with the reagent," Varian said slowly.

"You've got it, Your Majesty," Fusebreaker confirmed. "Now, we'd have to do some calculations if you were interested in an exact figure, but otherwise I'd wager that this bomb probably took twice as long to explode as our bomber intended."

"And how does that help us?" Baine asked.

"Well, what time did the bomb detonate?"

Varian thought back to the events of the previous evening. He had lost track of time the moment he had heard that damned explosion, but he could distinctly recall that it had been dark enough to have lit the braziers within his tent.

"Just after sundown. Around six o'clock, I'd guess?"

He looked to Jaina for confirmation, and she nodded once to indicate her agreement.

"If we can calculate the full rate at which the catalyst _should_ have flowed into the lower chamber, we can then determine the approximate time it was placed in the arena, as well as when it was meant to explode, based on when it actually _did_ ," Swiftfizzle explained.

Fusebreaker pulled a tattered notebook and a pencil from his coveralls as she spoke and began to jot down a few notes on a blank page. He muttered under his breath the entire while; scrawling figures and calculations faster than Varian could follow. The goblin may have lacked tact, or any sort of social awareness, but when it came to engineering, at least, it seemed the Horde's trust in him was well deserved.

Even then, Varian fought back the urge to clench and unclench his fists as Fusebreaker worked. He knew that there was little to be gained by forcing the goblin to rush, but he was also keenly aware of the fact that every second he spent here was a second he was not doing something to directly help Auriana. She had already been missing for half a day, and without the flow of conversation to distract him, he couldn't help but to imagine all sorts of various and horrible fates that might have befallen her.

After what seemed to Varian like an age, Fusebreaker finished his scribbling, and turned his notebook over to Agent Swiftfizzle for checking. She appeared reluctantly impressed by the quality of Fusebreaker's calculations, if her pursed lips and thoughtful expression were anything to go by, and after a few moments of silent consideration, she returned the notebook back to its owner with a short nod of approval.

"Assuming Engineer Fusebreaker's calculations are correct - and I believe they are - the bomb was intended to have roughly a six hour fuse, though the error in funnel construction would have increased that time to twelve hours."

"That suggests that the bomb was placed at approximately six in the morning, with an expected detonation at around midday," Fusebreaker added, tucking his notebook back into the pocket of his coveralls with a confident flourish.

"If one were to place a bomb, the early morning _would_ be the best time to do it," Fordring said worriedly. "The arena is guarded overnight, but it doesn't become busy again until perhaps seven each morning. And even then, the first match doesn't start until nine."

He cast an eye out over the destruction of the arena floor, and sighed.

"I trust my men, but no one is infallible. I'm not so proud that I can't admit that it's at least _possible_ that someone slipped past our defenses."

Varian stood in silence as he reflected on this new information, trying to ignore the dull, painful throbbing behind his left temple. In some ways, it was comforting to know that Auriana had not once again found herself the target of assassins, though in other ways, it was worse. It was one thing to be a target, but another thing to simply be _unlucky_. Sylvanas's words came back to him, unbidden, and once again, he couldn't help but to wonder if she was right. Perhaps he _was_ cursed...

"Are gate allocations randomised?" Jaina asked thoughtfully, her soft voice cutting through Varian's rambling thoughts. "By which I mean, can we determine whether the bomber might have been targeting a specific champion?"

"No, they're posted well in advance. Anyone with access to the arena tunnels can see the match schedule, it's relatively public information," Fordring answered.

"So whoever was due to enter the arena by the northern gate during the midday match was the target," Baine rumbled. "I don't suppose anyone has a copy of the match schedule handy?"

 _Midday_ …

A strange sinking feeling stirred in Varian's gut at the tauren Chieftain's words. It was not fear, precisely, but more a gnawing wariness mixed with genuine surprise.

"No need," he muttered. "I know who it was."

All eyes turned towards him, though it was Jaina who was the first to speak.

"Who?"

Varian cleared his throat.

"Me," he said flatly. "The bomb was meant for me."


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Auriana**

For a lamentably brief moment, Auriana found herself weightless as she fell; debris from the ruined floor raining down all around her. It was a strange, otherworldly feeling, which ended all too quickly as she slammed into the inky black pool hidden beneath what now remained of the arena. The force of the impact and the icy cold was enough to drive the air from her lungs as she plunged deep into the water, and for a second she almost blacked out from the shock.

 _Breathe!_

Auriana might have simply drifted off into oblivion, if not for the deeply instinctual, animal part of her brain screamed at her to fight, to _force_ her way back to the surface, and she kicked out with limp, shaking legs. The movement was not much, weighed down as she was by her cloak and skirts, but still she managed to claw her way upwards and take a desperate, gasping for breath the moment she broke the surface. Spots danced before her eyes as cold air flooded her chest and she began to splutter and cough, though she supposed it was a damn sight better than drowning.

Unfortunately, her respite was only momentary.

She grunted in pain and surprise as a small piece of wood crashed into her left shoulder, and she tilted her head back to peer into the darkness above. It was difficult to see, but it appeared that the floor had not collapsed in its entirety, and there was still a great deal of debris threatening to fall into the water below. It also appeared that the explosion had damaged the rock beneath the arena, and already she could see bits of the strata crumbling away.

It was then that Auriana belatedly remembered that she had not been alone when she had plunged into the pool, and she twisted frantically in the water as she sought the Horde Warchief.

"Vol'jin?" she called, her urgent cry echoing off the high rock walls of the cavern. "Vol'jin!"

Was he unconscious beneath the water? If he had sunk, she knew, she wouldn't have a snowball's chance in the Firelands of pulling him to the surface. She guessed he outweighed her by at _least_ a hundred and fifty pounds, and even if she hadn't been encumbered by her skirts and her own injuries, dragging him to the surface would have been a task far beyond her. A sick, panicky feeling arose in her throat as she searched for any sign of him; the slightest ripple or bubble that might indicate that he was still alive...

Auriana breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she finally found him, sprawled upon the bank on the opposite side of the pool. Vol'jin's body was only half out of the water, his left leg splayed and twisted awkwardly to one side, but from what she could see he was at the very least still breathing. The dim light made it difficult to tell whether he was conscious, though if he _had_ passed out, Auriana was very grateful that he had seen fit to drag himself out of the water first. As it was, she was finding it rather difficult to stay afloat in her heavy woollen dress, and it was with great effort that she slowly began to drag herself through the water to Vol'jin.

Crossing the length of the pool proved to be a harrowing affair. Auriana's bruised shoulder twitched painfully with every stroke, and more than once she was forced to dive or roll to the side to avoid a falling piece of debris. She found herself struggling to move forwards whilst trying to look up over her shoulder to check for falling wood and stone for above, but after several minutes of awkward, one-armed swimming, she at last managed to clamber, sopping and exhausted, from the pool.

"Vol'jin?"

Ignoring her own aches and pains, Auriana moved immediately to his side, and reached out to press her fingers into the juncture of his neck. His skin was uncomfortably cold and damp, and his left leg badly mangled, though she could still make out the faint thrum of his heartbeat against her fingers. Unconscious, yes, but alive, and alive was all that mattered.

Groaning, Auriana sat back on her heels and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the room from spinning. Her forehead throbbed painfully, and while she was fairly sure she was not seriously injured, she could already tell that she would have some spectacular bruising. She was also wet and shivering, which didn't help, though oddly she was not quite as cold as she might have otherwise expected to be.

Auriana sat silently at Vol'jin's side for a few moments while she caught her breath, when a sudden loud crack from above reminded her that they were still very much in danger. She looked up, and let out a surprised yelp as a boulder the size of a draft horse calved off from the ceiling and came crashing down. Fortunately, in this instance, it landed a good ten feet away, but she knew that they might not be so lucky a second or a third time.

"Damnit!" she hissed, immediately springing back to her feet.

She reached down to grab Vol'jin by the scruff of his tunic, and gave him a none-too-gentle shake. They needed to find cover, and soon, and they could not do so if he were unconscious.

"Vol'jin!" she shouted, as the rumbling overhead intensified. "Get up! We need to _move_."

After what seemed like an eternity of tugging and prodding, the Warchief finally opened his eyes. He was clearly dazed, though his blank expression soon turned to one of alarm as he took stock of their situation, and he struggled awkwardly to regain his feet. Auriana helped as best she was able, tossing one of his arms over her shoulders and leaning back in an attempt to counterbalance his weight. He was so heavy that he almost knocked her over, but with some judicious wriggling, and a little luck, she managed to get him upright.

"In there!" she hollered, pointing to a small opening in the side of the rock wall about forty feet away.

It wasn't pretty, but somehow they managed to limp their way across the cavern as rocks and debris rained down all around them. The thunderous sound of cracking rock overhead chased them as they ran; the sound echoing so loudly in the cavernous space that it sounded as if the entire Icecrown glacier were about to fall off into the sea. Auriana took quite a few hits to her shoulders and back, and she was well and truly battered by the time she and Vol'jin staggered into the relative shelter of a small tunnel.

Unfortunately, things inside the tunnel were only marginally better. The walls trembled ominously, shearing off small chunks of rock with alarming regularity. It was not pitch black, at least, though visibility was still very poor. The tunnel was also not especially large, and while Auriana was not bothered, thanks to her small stature, Vol'jin was forced to bend almost in half in order to fit.

Auriana also soon realised that the tunnel was not nearly as safe as she had hoped. The opening was just as unstable as the area outside, and she watched in horror as larger and larger rocks began to fall. Her view of the cavern beneath the arena was rapidly obscured as the ceiling collapse accelerated, and as much as it pained her to surrender their only connection to the world above, she knew they had to keep moving.

Auriana's battered shoulders protested as she tightened her grip on Vol'jin's arm and dragged him deeper into the darkness. He did not resist, and after about ten feet they found themselves standing in a small cave that wasn't all that much larger than the tunnel through which they had emerged. The rumbling behind them continued unabated, and it was only after the tunnel had completely collapsed, mere seconds after they had escaped, that the earth stilled, and everything at last went quiet.

"Varian…"

Panting, Auriana placed her spare hand against the thick stone barrier now separating her from any hope of rescue, as if she could almost feel him reaching out to her from the other side. She had seen real, unguarded fear in his eyes in the second before the floor had collapsed - and she could hardly blame him. She and Vol'jin had been tremendously lucky to survive the fall, and now it seemed that they might be trapped beyond rescue. At a rough estimate, several tonnes of rock now separated them from the cavern beneath the arena, and she feared that they would succumb to exposure long before it was cleared.

Auriana was not one to give up so easily, however, and she forced herself to focus on the issue of their more immediate survival, starting with Vol'jin. She genuinely _tried_ to lower the Warchief gently to the ground, but his weight was too much for her in her weakened state, and she more or less dropped him. He let out a soft grunt of pain as he hit the floor, though he made no direct protest. Instead, he simply closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall with a low, protracted groan.

For her part, Auriana remained standing, so that she might take better stock of their circumstances. The cavern they were in was dank and dark, though on the bright side, it appeared to open up at the end of a tunnel about twenty or thirty feet away. The faint light source she had noticed earlier seemed to be coming from that direction, which suggested at least the _possibility_ of a way out… or, alternatively, the presence of chittering nerubians seeking prey.

Pushing _that_ particular thought to the side, at least for the moment, Auriana then reached out for her powers, only to find that they were still tantalisingly out of reach. The dampening field held in full effect, even down here, which meant that a quick teleportation spell was out of the question. She hoped that someone up above would have the sense to temporarily disable the field long enough for her to open a portal, but for the time being, at least, they were well and truly stuck.

"Well, at least it ain't as cold as I expected," Vol'jin remarked, his quiet voice cutting through Auriana's troubled thoughts.

She turned to face him, and frowned.

"No, it's not…" she murmured, realising that such a fact may have been more important than she had first thought.

At the very least, it meant that they wouldn't _immediately_ freeze to death, though their wet clothes would still present something of a problem. She reached out, and laid a hand on the nearest rock wall. It was cool to the touch, but not nearly as icy as she might have otherwise feared, considering they were trapped beneath the surface of a great glacier.

"How is dat possible?"

Auriana bit her lip.

"I'm not sure…" she murmured. "Although… the nerubian civilisation was quite advanced; presumably they had a means of heating their cities. Magic, perhaps, or maybe they used some kind of geothermal energy, like the dwarves do in Ironforge. If there was a city around here, we might be benefiting from some of the residual heat."

She rapped her nails thoughtfully against the wall, and glanced back down the tunnel towards towards the faint light source glimmering in the distance.

"Warchief… will you be alright if I leave you here for a bit? I'm going to take a look around." She shrugged. "Who knows, I might find something to help us."

"I'll be fine, mon. I promise not ta run away."

The troll's face was barely visible in the low light, but Auriana thought she saw the barest hint of a smile cross his face as he nodded towards his injured leg.

"I won't be long," she assured him.

Auriana kept one guiding hand on the wall as she made her way through the tunnel, careful not to trip over the hem of her dress. She had come dressed for a casual stroll around the Tournament, not a spelunking expedition, and she growled in frustration every time her soaking wet skirts wrapped about her ankles or caught against the rock wall. Her boots, at least, were relatively sturdy, though with a higher heel than she would have preferred in the circumstances.

Nevertheless, Auriana managed to make her way through the tunnel without falling flat on her face, and she gasped as she stepped out onto a narrow rock ledge perched above a giant, cavernous abyss. The rocky ceiling overhead sparkled with icy stalactites, while the pit below was alive with a wide variety of bioluminescent plants and mushrooms. Iridescent wefts of spider silk covered the walls, and the entire space seemed to writhe and pulse in a way that made the hair on the back of Auriana's neck stand up.

Aside from the faintly glowing plantlife, she could also see a number of strange, incandescent egg-like structures lining the path that led down into the pit. Each appeared to be about two feet high, with a honeycombed outer shell and an almost-firelike orange light burning within. The light they produced was not nearly as strong as a flaming torch or a witchlight, though probably bright enough for a civilisation of subterranean spiders - and more than enough for Auriana's purposes. With a proper light, she could tend to Vol'jin's wounds, and with any luck prevent him from bleeding out before they were rescued.

The path ahead split into two - one path that sloped slightly upwards and to the left, and another that bent around a corner and disappeared into the pit. Auriana went down, forcibly ignoring the prickling sensation at the base of her skull as she made her way carefully along the path. She was not usually in the habit of ignoring her instincts, but in this case she felt the reward was worth the risk. Vol'jin needed her help, and she would be damned if the Warchief of the Horde was going to die on her watch.

As perilous as the path looked from above, it was actually quite easy to navigate. It made sense, of course, given the path had been carved for and by beings far larger than Auriana herself, and it took her only about five minutes to make her way down to the closest glowing egg-thing. Up close, it looked uncomfortably organic - slathered in ropy membranes and some sort of thick, gelatinous goo that Auriana didn't want to think about all too much. Despite its disconcerting appearance, however, it was nevertheless bright and oddly warm to the touch, and that was all she really needed.

Unfortunately, removing the strange thing proved to be a far more difficult task than finding it. Its base was firmly secured to the rock, and it would not be easily pried loose. Under normal circumstances, Auriana would have attempted to cut it free, but as per Tournament rules, she was not carrying a single weapon - not even the slender little boot knife that she typically kept on her person at all times.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. It hurt to think, though even if she hadn't been currently experiencing a pounding headache, she wasn't sure she would have been all that much more inspired, with no magic, tools, or weapons at her disposal. Unless...

There was a small crevice in the rock behind the egg-light. It was not at all large enough to accommodate a man the size of Varian, or a troll like Vol'jin, but for once, it seemed, Auriana's small stature put her at a distinct advantage. She wedged her back into the crevice and braced her arms against the wall, before contracting her stomach muscles and pulling her legs up to her chest. She then kicked out as hard as she could, aiming her boots squarely at the base of the egg-light where it was anchored to the rock.

Auriana's first strike did very little damage, though her second and third thrusts were far more effective in shifting the thing off its base. The action was tiring, but she figured that it would only take two or three more solid kicks to work it loose. Just as she coiled her legs for the fourth kick, however, she was distracted by a faint rustling sound from somewhere deep in the pit.

She immediately ceased moving, and instinctively held her breath. With her poor hearing, Auriana wasn't entirely sure what she had heard - or even whether she had heard anything at all - but she decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. She lowered her boots to the floor and waited, awkwardly half-wedged within the wall, as she strained to hear _any_ sound that might indicate that she was not alone.

After a few minutes of silence, however, Auriana began to think that she was going mad… that is, until she heard the sound once again, and clearer: a faint _scritch scratch_ of far too many segmented limbs sliding over one another beneath the weight of a huge thorax.

 _Nerubians._

Auriana immediately pushed herself into the crevice as far as she could go; sucking in her stomach and folding her arms in an attempt to make herself as small as possible. She couldn't hope to outrun the nerubians if they found her, and nor could she hope to fight. Her best chance, then, was to hide, and hope that they passed by without finding her.

What followed was perhaps the most nerve-wracking five or so minutes of Auriana's life. The once-faint rustling grew louder and louder, and as the nerubians grew closer she could also hear them communicating with one another in a series of guttural clicks. She did not speak nerubian, of course, but she could tell from the agitated pitch of their chitters that they had sensed something amiss.

Auriana then just about fainted when a long, segmented leg reached out to touch the wonky egg-light, and it took every last bit of control she possessed not to instinctively bolt from her hiding place. Her heart was beating so loudly that she was certain it could be heard all the way to Stormwind, and she was starting to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen. Still, she never blinked, her eyes remaining firmly fixed on the spidery leg as it gently prodded the egg-light. An intense, chirruping argument followed, before the unsettling leg finally withdrew, and the nerubians began to slowly make their way back down the path the way they had come.

Just to be sure, Auriana counted to one hundred before she very carefully extricated herself from her hiding spot and peered around the natural corner made by the crevice. It took her a second, but then she spotted them - two huge nerubian warriors making their way back down the path. The chitinous rub of their many legs echoed up through the cavern; the already disturbing sound eerily amplified in a way that made Auriana wince. She wasn't particularly bothered by insects, but there was something about the way that the nerubians moved that was distinctly unnerving, and she watched them hawkishly until they vanished into the darkness below.

The moment they had truly disappeared, Auriana delivered one final, desperate kick to the egg-light, and at long last knocked it free. In fact, she kicked it so hard that it almost rolled off the edge, and it was only thanks to her naturally fast reflexes that she managed to catch the damn thing. Fortunately it was a lot lighter than it looked, if a little… sticky… and Auriana was able to lift it with little effort. Its strange ovoid shape made it a little unwieldy to carry, but somehow she managed, and hurried back up the path towards the cave as fast as she was able.

"Yer Majesty?"

Vol'jin called out as Auriana staggered back inside; the edginess in his voice plain to hear. For all he knew, she was a hungry spiderlord come to finish him off, and he had no real way to defend himself.

"It's me," she assured him quickly, taking a few deep, steadying breaths. "We're safe. At least for now."

She placed the stolen light down on the ground before them, ensuring it was securely wedged between two rocks so that it wouldn't roll away. It had faded slightly in the time Auriana had taken to carry it back back up to the shelter of their little cave, but it was thankfully still bright enough that she could now see more than half a foot in front of her own face.

"What be dat?" Vol'jin asked, leaning forward to study the egg-light with interest.

"Honestly, I have no idea. _Some_ sort of light, though whether it's magical or bioluminescent I'm not sure. I didn't really want to touch it all that much…"

"Probably for da best," Vol'jin agreed.

He leaned his head back against the wall once more, and let out a low, shaky sigh as he closed his eyes. His skin was not quite as vibrantly blue as it normally was - though, admittedly, that might have had more to do with the poor quality of their light source than any medical ailment. Still, he didn't exactly look _well_ , and Auriana feared that his condition would only worsen the longer they were trapped.

"May I take a look at your leg?" she asked, gesturing.

Vol'jin nodded.

Auriana crouched down at his side, and very carefully peeled back the ruined scraps of his shin guard to reveal the nasty gash beneath. Troll blood was darker and stickier than human blood, and Vol'jin had already bled enough to soak through the leather. On the brighter side, the wound was not too deep, though it _was_ ragged, and contaminated with a number of wooden shards. Auriana didn't have any water on hand - or anything else, really - though she knew she would have to do her best to clean the wound lest it fester or continue to bleed. Vol'jin was tough and resilient, but even he was not immune to the effects of shock and blood loss.

"Warchief… I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to prod at your wound a bit," she murmured. "I can't leave it like this…"

"Do what ya must," Vol'jin acquiesced.

His voice was even, and he never so much as opened his eyes, though Auriana still paused a moment to give him a chance to refuse before she set to work trying to extract the wooden shards from his flesh. She moved slowly, carefully, but even then Vol'jin inhaled sharply in pain as she extracted the first splinter. He didn't move, thankfully, but pain was written into every shadowed line of his face.

"Nah, don't… don't stop..." the troll grunted, when she instinctively pulled back. "Tell me… what… what did ya find in da tunnels?"

Auriana understood his need to talk, having often been in a similar position herself. Talking gave him something to focus on aside from the wound in his leg, and without such a distraction, she knew all too well that the pain could quickly become overwhelming.

"Well, we're going to have to be very careful," she said quietly, as she began to work a second splinter from his calf. "I was right; there's some sort of nerubian settlement not too far below us. I saw a patrol."

"And did dey see you?"

Even in great pain with his leg torn open, Vol'jin was still sharp.

"No. Or at least, I don't think so."

Auriana sighed. She was fairly certain she hadn't been seen, but there was always the chance the nerubians possessed some sort of extrasensory abilities that would have allowed them to detect her. After all, she was hardly an expert in their biology.

"And I take it dere be a reason ya haven't teleported us out of here yet?"

Auriana nodded despondently.

"I tried," she confirmed. "The dampening field is still in full effect, even down here."

She sighed, and brushed an irritable lock of still-wet hair from her eyes. She understood the importance of the dampening field as it pertained to the safe and smooth operation of the Tournament, but being unable to touch her magic whenever she wanted was undeniably frustrating - particularly when she was trapped in a collapsing tunnel with an injured Warchief in close proximity to a city filled with giant, aggressive spider-people.

"Why would dey not lower da field?" Vol'jin wondered, shifting his weight ever so slightly as Auriana removed a third splinter. "Do ya tink dat dey tink we be dead?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, even if they _did_ … why not lower it just in case?" she mused worriedly. "Varian, at least, would want to know for sure..."

 _Varian._

Auriana looked upwards, as if she could possibly see through tonnes of rock to the surface above. She did not believe that he would ever give up on her. They had admittedly butted heads a few times throughout the Tournament so far, as they struggled to adjust to life as newlyweds in front of the entire world, but she could not imagine him leaving her die without exhausting every possibility for rescue. Which meant that there had to be another explanation…

"I wonder if the field was damaged somehow…" she whispered, more to herself than to Vol'jin.

"Hmm?"

"Dampening fields are made using powerful runic magic," she said, more loudly. "But if those runes were damaged by the explosion… it could be that the reason they haven't lowered the field is because they _can_ ' _t_."

Auriana had never been involved in the construction of a dampening field herself, but she knew the theory - and silently kicked herself for not seeing the problem sooner. Perhaps she had taken a harder hit to the head than she had originally thought.

"Dat would make more sense, at least," Vol'jin agreed. "Though I still don't understand why we be affected by da field so far underground."

"That's by design, actually. Do you know much about arcane magic?"

"Very little," Vol'jin admitted.

Auriana would have been surprised if he had answered in the affirmative. Despite the abundance of arcane magic on Azeroth, few people truly understood its mysteries. Vol'jin was also a troll, and while troll magi were not unheard of, as a general rule they tended to prefer nature and voodoo magics.

"Not to get too technical, but shapes and geometry… sort of… uh... _matter_... in magic," she said, sketching a loose triangle in the air with her left hand. "As does symmetry. Have you ever wondered why runes are almost always inscribed in circles? It's because circles are one of the most powerful magical shapes. Perfectly symmetrical, with no sharp corners to disrupt the arcane flow."

"Da dampening field is spherical," Vol'jin realised, quickly catching on.

"I wasn't actually there when the Kirin Tor made the thing, but I would think so, yes. That's how I'd do it, in any case," Auriana confirmed. "To make it as strong and stable as possible, the Kirin Tor would have most logically have defined the shape of the field itself to be a perfect sphere. _Especially_ if they used the Antonidan method of positive-coefficient rune inversion when defining the field parameters, as opposed to the Arrexian… which, given that Jaina led the construction efforts, seems likely…"

"Da field has ta be equally as long over the vertical axis as da horizontal," Vol'jin surmised simply.

Auriana glanced up to find him staring back at her with an inscrutable expression; his head tilted slightly to one side. The dim light in the tunnel gave his eyes a rather sinister bloodred gleam, but she could have sworn that there was the hint of an amused smile pulling at his tusks.

"I… I'm sorry," she said, flushing. "I can get a bit carried away when talking about magic. Though in my defense, I'm not _nearly_ as bad as Khadgar or Jaina."

She ducked her head awkwardly, and turned her full attention back to the task of cleaning Vol'jin's leg.

"Don'tcha worry, Ya Majesty," he assured her, his deep voice warm. "I have seen ya as a warrior and a leader, but it be a pleasant ting ta see ya as a scholar, as well. Ya magic is so explosive, I tink sometimes people forget dat ya got quite da mind behind all dat raw strength."

"I… I'd hardly call myself a scholar, but… thank you," Auriana murmured, her blush deepening at the unexpected praise. "Really, I… um… that's very kind of you…"

She had never been very good at accepting compliments, even from Varian, and while she was grateful, she was also glad when Vol'jin did not continue to flatter her further. Instead, he simply nodded in acknowledgement of her thanks and rolled out his shoulders, before settling back into perfect stillness so that she could finish her work.

"How big do ya reckon da field is?" he asked, smoothly changing the topic to spare her any further discomfort.

"Ah… about two miles wide? Perhaps a touch more, to encompass the entire grounds and then some?" Auriana said, trying to picture the Tournament in her mind's eye. "If the midpoint of the field on both axes is located somewhere in the arena, we might have to go almost a mile deep to outrange it."

"Dat's a bit inconvenient," Vol'jin observed drily.

Auriana snorted.

"I don't think the Kirin Tor built the ward expecting people to fall through the floor..."

She pulled the final splinter from Vol'jin's leg and set it aside, before lifting the hem of her skirts so that she could tear off a piece of fabric for a makeshift bandage. The wound was not perfectly clean, by any stretch of the imagination, but it looked a damn sight better than it had before she had started.

"I mean, it might not go _that_ deep," she added thoughtfully. "It's more likely that the midpoint of is located somewhere high over the arena, to maximise coverage in the air while still providing some protection from interference from below."

"But we have no real way of knowin'," Vol'jin sighed.

"No. We don't. I'd feel it if we were close, but that's about all we've got to go on."

Auriana finished tying off the bandage and sat back with a huff. She had been careful in her work, but some of the Warchief's dark blood stained her fingers, and she spent several minutes wiping her hands off on what was left of her hem. She was now satisfied that he wouldn't bleed out overnight, though she wanted to get him to a healer sooner rather than later.

"So… if we can't go down, then we'll have to go sideways; outrange it that way," she concluded. "That is, assuming the Kirin Tor don't find some way to lower the dampening field in the meantime."

Auriana rose to her feet, and gave Vol'jin a quick once over. He appeared to be a little more alert, thankfully, though he was still pale and clearly in a great deal of pain.

"Do you think you can walk?"

Vol'jin twitched his leg experimentally.

"With help," he concluded, a faint note of irritation in his voice. "I won't be outrunnin' any nerubians, dat's for sure, but… I could walk."

He made an awkward attempt to push himself back up the wall, but Auriana stilled him with a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

"I meant… in the morning. For now, I think we both need to rest."

It wasn't a lie, or an attempt to spare the Warchief's pride. Auriana's head was spinning wildly now that she was back on her feet, and she was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open. To that end, she unclipped her cloak, and settled down on the ground on Vol'jin's right side. The rocky floor was cold beneath her rear, though it was still not quite as icy as she might have expected, and the rough stone walls scraped at her back. Auriana shifted her weight around for a while as she tried to find the most comfortable spot - or rather, the least _uncomfortable_ spot - only to quickly give up when she realised that her efforts were entirely in vain.

It was far from the first time she had slept rough, of course, but that didn't make her feel any better about the situation.

 _Just once, Auriana, it would be nice if you could make it through a week without being falling into a pit, or being blown up, or ending up sleeping in some dank cave..._

With a start, she was starkly reminded of _another_ incident in which she had been forced to seek a makeshift shelter in a cave, and she let out a dry chuckle of amusement at the irony.

"Someting funny?" Vol'jin asked.

"This is how I met Varian, you know," she explained, hesitating for only a moment before laying the cloak over the both of them like a blanket as she curled into Vol'jin's side.

Auriana felt the Warchief briefly tense at the unexpected contact, though he did not pull away. He was pragmatic enough to know that they would be warmer if they huddled together, especially in their dampened clothes, and he even went so far as to place his right arm gingerly about her shoulders. She imagined that the situation was probably just as awkward for him as it was for her, but they needed to do everything they could to keep warm throughout the night if they were to survive.

"Yeah?"

"Strangely enough, yes," Auriana confirmed, gratefully resting her head against the Warchief's ropy bicep. "We were ambushed on alternate Draenor, and I was unable to teleport us home, because… well, it's a long story. We ended up in a cave not unlike this one, both injured."

"Seems like it worked out alright for ya… marryin' King Varian, and all. Can't promise I'll make ya da same offer at the end of _our_ little adventure, though…" Vol'jin said slyly.

Auriana barked out a short laugh; vaguely picturing herself and Vol'jin standing before an altar with an unfeasibly small top hat purchased upon his mohawk, and wondering whether he was picturing something similar. She was well aware of how ridiculous she looked next to Varian, and she could only imagine how she might appear beside Vol'jin, who was at least a foot taller. Not that she would ever in a million years believe that Vol'jin had designs on her, of course, but the image was amusing nonetheless.

A surprisingly companionable silence fell between them, and for a few minutes the only sounds were that of Vol'jin's quiet breathing and the distant sound of dripping water. The Horde Warchief made for a rather comfortable pillow, and the faint shine of the nerubian egg-light bathed their little cavern an oddly cheerful orange glow. In truth, it was almost peaceful, sitting there in the near darkness, and all too soon Auriana felt her eyelids slowly begin to droop...

"Yer Majesty?"

Vol'jin's quiet voice startled Auriana from her drowsy stupor, and she jerked upright in alarm. The pain and exhaustion of the last few hours had rapidly began to catch up with her, and while she had done what was needed in the moment, now that the adrenaline was finally fading from her body she realised just how sore and tired she really was. Nevertheless, she was determined not forsake her duty to protect Vol'jin, and with him, the tenuous pact between the Alliance and the Horde, and her muscles immediately clenched in anticipation of a fight.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Vol'jin said quickly, no doubt able to feel the sudden shift in her attitude. "Just curious, I suppose…when we were up in de arena, how did ya know it was a bomb?"

"Oh." Auriana brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes, and took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Ah… I've actually seen something similar before, though it was a long time ago..."

She readjusted her position slightly, pulling her booted feet towards her body in an effort to better conserve body heat.

"When I was serving in the Northrend campaign against the Lich King, I spent a few weeks at the Alliance base at Wintergarde," she explained. "The Scourge used to send regular assaults against the Keep from Naxxramas."

Perhaps it was the fact that they were currently trapped beneath a glacier _in_ Northrend, but Auriana could perfectly picture the icy wastes of the Dragonblight and the scores of Scourge assaulting the walls of Wintergarde. It had been a long time since the war against the Lich King, and she had fought in many battles since, but she could still recall the sheer terror she had felt watching the endless waves of ravening undead crashing into the palisade. She had been young and inexperienced, and she knew she had been very lucky to survive her posting. Many others had not.

"There was a dwarf siege engineer at the base by the name of Bolug Thunderfist, though most people just called him 'the Slab'," Auriana recalled. "He was tall for a dwarf, taller than me, and just about equally as wide. He was very good at his job, though more than a little insane. His favourite thing to do was to tap a keg of Barleybrew Scalder, then rig up a few improvised explosives and drop them over the walls onto the attacking Scourge."

"While drunk?" Vol'jin asked incredulously.

"He nearly blew his hand off a few times, but the officers looked the other way so long as he was killing Scourge," Auriana snorted. "Anyway, I don't know anything about _how_ he made the devices, but I saw more than a few up close in the time I was stationed there, and they looked exactly like that bomb up in the arena."

She felt, rather than saw, Vol'jin nod.

"Well, ya probably saved our lives."

Auriana cast a wary eye back down the tunnel to where she had encountered the nerubians, and sighed.

"I'm not sure our situation has improved all that much."

"We be alive. And if be alive, we can fight," Vol'jin countered, his voice soft but determined.

"I hope it doesn't come to a fight. I'm not sure I can take on a nerubian with no magic and no weapons. I was hoping they might have all been destroyed in the war with the Lich King, but it seems a few pockets of them still exist."

While Auriana tried her best to keep her tone neutral, she was unable to prevent a slight snap of irritation from echoing through her words. There were few things she hated more than being without her magic. It made her feel impotent, useless, and not at all like herself. After all, if it were not for the field dampening her powers, their current predicament would be little more than a passing annoyance. They would be already be safe and warm back at the Tournament, with no cold stone or nerubians in sight.

"Eh, don't be promisin' yaself ta Bwonsamdi just yet. We've both had worse," Vol'jin reminded her.

Despite her exhaustion, Auriana's interest was piqued. She was not entirely ignorant about troll society and customs, thanks to her friendship with Zala'din, though their conversations had tended to focus more on matters of strategy and war than on cultural exchange. She could hardly claim any sort of real expertise, however, and she hoped that Vol'jin would not take offense if she were to attempt to learn more.

"Bwonsamdi is your _loa_?" she asked curiously.

"I be pretty sure he would consider me _his_ den de other way around," Vol'jin chuckled drily, the expansion of his chest jostling Auriana slightly where she sat. "As a Shadow Hunter, I have a connection to many _loa_ , though I do be owing a great deal to Bwonsamdi for helpin' my people recover da Echo Isles from Zalazane."

Auriana nodded slowly, though she still didn't really understand.

"Forgive my ignorance, but… what exactly _is_ a _loa_?" she asked, feeling somewhat shy. "I've heard the term, obviously, but…"

She trailed off, wondering if Vol'jin would refuse to answer. He seemed faintly surprised by her interest, though thankfully, not entirely unwilling to talk.

"De loa are… spirits, of a sort, though dey can influence da living world," he said slowly. "Dey are a primal force, like da wind, da rain, or da lightning, and dey can be very powerful."

His deep voice thrummed with reverence, and the echo of a distant, ancient power.

"We worship da _loa_ , and in return dey give us dere many blessings. Or, if dey are displeased, dey mete out terrible punishment," he added. "Many _loa_ take on da form of giant animals, like Hir'eek, de bat, or Shirvallah, de tiger."

"They sound a bit like the night elves' Ancient Guardians, like Goldrinn or Malorne," Auriana remarked, recalling some of her history.

"Ah, yes, da Guardians are mighty _loa_ ," Vol'jin agreed sagely. "It is said dat Lo'Gosh favours ya husband, much like a _loa_ might favour one of my people."

Auriana was not surprised to learn that the Horde knew of Varian's particular blessings. He was one of the most recognisable men in the world, famed not only as a King, but a warrior without equal. His wolflike cunning and ferocity had been on full display at the Tournament for all to see, and she defied anyone to argue that there wasn't something indescribably special about him.

"He does… although don't ask me to explain how that works, because I have absolutely no idea."

More than once, Auriana had become aware of something deep and ancient stirring in the air when she looked at Varian. There was no rhyme or reason to the timing of it; sometimes it was something subtle in the way he moved, or the way the sunlight caught his hair. But she definitely _had_ felt it - different in timbre and resonance than her own tremendous wellspring of power, though equally strong in its own way.

"I have felt Goldrinn's power about him," she said aloud, "And I know that the wolf's influence makes Varian something more than a normal man, but beyond that…"

She shrugged.

"Do all trolls worship all the _loa_? Or do they pledge themselves to only one at a time?"

"Only a fool would fail ta show proper deference to a _loa_ , even one dat dey do not worship…" Vol'jin said ominously, "Though ya are right - different tribes tend ta have dere own preferred _loa_ , as do different individuals. While Shadow Hunters call on da blessings of many _loa_ , for example, priests typically dedicate themselves ta only one."

Vol'jin shifted his weight beneath Auriana's head, and she felt a strange ripple of tension roll through his body.

"Families often choose a _loa_ as da patron of dere whole line," he said slowly. "Though it is not uncommon for children ta choose a different path den dere parents. My… my children have never shown Bwonsamdi much favour. He has a certain _reputation_ amongst da trolls… all respect his power, but few are willing ta pledge demselves to da Lord of Graves."

The information about Bwonsamdi was intriguing, but it was far from the most interesting thing Vol'jin had just said, and Auriana blinked, certain she must have misheard.

"I… your… what? Y-you have a _child_?"

"Children. Three, actually."

Vol'jin spoke with a nonchalance that belied the sudden rigidity in his posture, but Auriana was too dumbstruck for the strangeness of his behaviour to really register. She opened her mouth to speak, then swiftly shut it again. She wasn't quite sure what to do with this new piece of information, or even whether she was still awake and not having a very strange dream. Certainly, if Varian had known the truth, he had never mentioned it - and nor had anyone else she had ever met in either the Alliance _or_ the Horde.

" _Three?_ " she managed finally. "Do they have… I mean, of course they have names, but… what… what are they?"

She had a thousand and one other questions, but that one seemed the most obvious - and probably the safest.

"Dere names are Sen'ga, Mali, and Yenniku," Vol'jin replied, his voice warming in rare pride. "Fine trolls all."

He would make a good father, Auriana thought. At least in her experience, he was compassionate, considered, and consistently fair. Of course, she had no idea what a troll might consider good parenting, nor even whether troll fathers were expected to be involved in the raising of their children. Still, as far as human standards were concerned, she felt that a child could do a lot worse than to be raised by someone like Vol'jin.

"I… I had no idea…" she murmured.

"Few do," Vol'jin admitted. "Even amongst da Horde… I rarely speak of my family. I have no desire ta put dem in danger."

With those words, the strange reticence with which he had first mentioned his children suddenly made a great deal of sense. Auriana had seen first hand how people were all too willing to use Anduin as a pawn to manipulate or threaten Varian, and she could only imagine that there were those in the Horde - and the Alliance - who would take similar steps to influence a Warchief. In admitting that he not only had a family, but cared for them deeply as well, Vol'jin had made himself vulnerable.

"So you have a… a wife, then?" she asked tentatively, unsure of the right word. "A mate?"

"I have had three wives, as you might call them," Vol'jin answered.

"Three?" Auriana repeated. "So you've been divorced?"

"Divorced?" Vol'jin queried, rolling the unfamiliar word over his tongue.

"Um… had the marriage legally dissolved," Auriana elaborated, trying to think of the simplest way to define the term.

"Ah, I see."

Vol'jin paused for a moment to consider the question.

"Trolls - or at least da Darkspear - do not conceive of marriage in da same way as humans do. We have a similar ritual, but dere be no expectation dat a troll union will last a lifetime."

"Why not?"

The question spilled from Auriana's lips before she realised that it sounded rather rude. That had not at all been her intention, but in her current state of tiredness, she was rapidly running out of the mental fortitude required to couch her curiosity in more sensitive terms.

"Why da humans always seem ta think it will?" Vol'jin countered.

Auriana flushed.

"Fair point."

The Warchief reached up with his spare hand to scratch at the juncture where one of his tusks met his upper lip, much like a human or dwarf might scratch at a beard, and let out a thoughtful sigh.

"It be a very old saying amongst my people dat da troll dat greets da sunrise is not da same troll who greets da sunset."

Auriana considered the riddled phrase seriously.

"It's a metaphor," she realised, after a pause, "For change across the lifespan. Who you are when you are young is not necessarily who you are when you are old."

"Right ya are, Yer Majesty," Vol'jin said, nodding his approval. "We figure it be much da same with a mate. Someone who be a good match when ya young may not still be a good match when ya both get older. People grow. Dey change. What dey want changes. What dey _need_ changes _._ "

Auriana had not questioned pledging herself to Varian for the rest of her life, as was required by traditional vows, but she supposed, on reflection, that it was not a realistic aspiration for many people. She was certainly not the same person she had been even a handful of years ago, much less who she had been a decade ago. Frankly, if Auriana had been told as an eighteen-year old woman that she would one day grow up to marry the famously irascible King of Stormwind, she would have just about died of laughter. She wanted him now, desperately, with each and every beat of her heart, but she could not deny that she had undergone great change in her life before coming to that realisation.

"That… makes a lot of sense, actually," she admitted. "So you have multiple wives?"

"Not all at da same time," Vol'jin clarified. "Our mates are called _kalar'i_ , which means… well, I'm not quite sure how ta translate da word inta Common. One pledges ta dere _kalar'i_ in a special ritual in which de union is blessed by da _loa_. A pairing might last for only a few months, or half a lifetime... each couple be unique. A second ritual marks de end of da relationship, leaving both parties free ta pursue another _kalar'i_ , should dey so desire."

Auriana raised an eyebrow.

"Just like that? No bitterness, or jealousy?"

She couldn't imagine how it might feel to see Varian with another woman. It was hard enough, sometimes, to live in the shadow of Tiffin Ellerian, let alone if Varian ever were to leave her for someone else. She doubted she would take it especially gracefully.

"Da end of a relationship is seen as something to be celebrated, not grieved. Both _kalar'i_ have grown and learned from one another, even if it now be time for dem ta move on." Vol'jin took a deep breath, then added, "In theory, at least. It don't always work dat way in practice."

He gave a rueful chuckle.

"Of course, not all trolls undergo de ritual in dere lifetime. Some will take a single _kalar'i_ for life, much as humans do. Others never take da bond, preferrin' instead ta engage in more… casual relationships."

"So… so you've had three _kalar'i,_ " Auriana surmised, doing her level best not to butcher the pronunciation of the Zandali word.

"Yes," Vol'jin confirmed. "My first was Zan'Zara… Zan. She had skin da colour of da mornin' sky on a clear day, and hair like a raging fire. Ta dis day, she's still da most beautiful troll I ever seen… but… crazy…"

"Crazy?"

"She has tried to murder me on at least four separate occasions," Vol'jin explained, sounding surprisingly blasé about the fact that his former lover had made several attempts on his life.

"And yet you married her," Auriana pointed out. "Or… bonded her..."

"Ah... I was young," Vol'jin sighed, sounding almost wistful. "Let's just say I wasn't thinkin' with my head..."

Auriana was suddenly very glad that Vol'jin couldn't see her face, as she was sure she had gone blazing red. Zala'din had implied to her on more than one occasion that troll mating was a rather rough and tumble - if not sometimes downright _violent_ \- affair, and she was struggling to picture the normally wily and level-headed Vol'jin lusting after a gorgeous but apparently murderous lady troll.

"Zan bore me my first son, Sen'ga," he added, more seriously.

"Named for your father, Sen'jin," Auriana realised, nodding.

Vol'jin made a soft sound of surprise and appreciation, and Auriana couldn't help but smile to herself.

"What? I do know _some_ things," she teased gently.

"So I see," Vol'jin snorted. "Anyway… my second _kalar'i_ was a shaman, Sha'je. She was very powerful, very clever. We have two children together - my daughter, Mali, and my youngest son, Yenniku."

Now that he was talking, he seemed to find it hard to stop, and Auriana was suddenly struck by the realisation that he must have been incredibly lonely. She certainly was, sometimes, and that was even _with_ Varian and Anduin in her life. Vol'jin had known love, and family, but had put his own feelings and needs aside to do whatever he could to keep them safe. It was possible that this was the first time he had really talked about his family in years. She wasn't sure if he was making the _right_ decision, to maintain such distance from people he clearly loved, though she could not at all fault his sentiment.

"We were a good match in a lotta ways, though I tink I always frustrated her with my lack of ambition."

"Lack of ambition?" Auriana queried. "You're the Warchief of the Horde..."

"I wasn't at da time. And I never asked for it… ya know dat…"

"Nor did I," Auriana muttered.

Even now, lost beneath a glacier, she could feel the weight of the invisible crown of Stormwind bearing down upon her. Vol'jin had once again proven himself surprisingly easy to talk to, but his words abruptly reminded her that she could never for a moment forget who they were. She had come to the Tournament to build bridges, it was true, but in the back of her mind she couldn't help but to wonder how some in the Alliance might perceive their conversation. It had taken a surprisingly personal turn, and while she was grateful to Vol'jin for his trust, a small part of her wasn't sure whether they ought to continue.

"Hmm? What was dat?" he asked, nudging her gently in the back.

"Ah… nothing," she said quickly, pushing her concerns to the side. "What about your third mate? Who was she?"

Vol'jin went very still for a moment, and Auriana distinctly felt the mood in the cave shift.

"Khinja… her name is Khinja…" he murmured. "She and I made our vows before da _loa_ a little while after Deathwing was defeated. I had wanted her for a long time, but I was always off fightin'. I never thought she'd be wantin' me back, but… "

Auriana's head was jostled slightly as Vol'jin's shoulders lifted in a small shrug.

"One night she set me a mating challenge. I won, but she beat me bloody. Told me she needed ta check whether I had rocks in my head, cause she couldn't tink of another reason why I hadn't bonded her yet."

Auriana got the sense that there was something different about Khinja. He had spoken of his other partners with varying degrees of respect and affection, but there was a sense of rawness and real longing in the way he spoke about his third _kalar'i_ that made Auriana think that she was somehow special.

"So you and she are still…?"

"Nah. We ended our relationship before da Darkspear Rebellion. Before da Siege of Orgrimmar."

Vol'jin tried to hide it, but the disappointment in his voice was plain.

"Did you two have... some sort of a falling out?"

"Nothin' like dat. I couldn't risk my family payin' for my treasons. Zan, Sha'je and my children were safely elsewhere, but Khinja… she lives and works in Orgrimmar. Garrosh woulda had her killed," he said, growling softly at the mention of Hellscream's name.

"Treason?" Auriana wondered, surprised that he would think of it as such. "You stood up to a genocidal despot."

There was a part of her that would never forgive the Horde for allowing Hellscream to become what he had, but Vol'jin, at least, had turned against the merciless orc - at great personal cost - and had ignited the Rebellion that had helped to take him down.

"I was attemptin' ta depose a Warchief," Vol'jin said, shaking his head. "Dere are many in da Horde who would _still_ consider dat treason, no matter how justified my actions may have been. It ain't like wit ya High King. A Warchief's word is law, and it be considered da height of dishonour ta take a stand against him."

Aurian frowned as she tried to understand. She was not so arrogant as to presume that the Alliance way of doing things was the _only_ way, but what Vol'jin was describing sounded an awful lot like a dictatorship. Varian held enormous power within the Alliance as High King, but his position was not absolute - the other races of the Alliance were not irrevocably bound to follow his orders, and nor was dissent inherently considered treasonous.

"But you're the Warchief now… it's _your_ word that matters," she argued. "I mean, Thrall very publicly has a wife… children… surely you could have the same?"

"His children have been threatened before, as has his wife. I have seen da toll it has taken on him… and dem," Vol'jin said darkly. "I had de opportunity to hide my family, where he did not. I ain't saying he be wrong ta keep dem by his side - da path of da Warchief be a lonely one - but I couldn't make da same choice."

Auriana felt terrible for him, but as much as she wanted to argue with him further, she could see that his mind would not be easily changed. He had made his choice, and as much as his obvious loneliness pained her, she perfectly understood his reasoning.

"Would you ever… reunite? Complete the ritual again?" she asked quietly, after a brief moment of silence. "Is that even allowed?"

"It is," Vol'jin confirmed, "Though I dunno if she'd have me. It been a long time, and she didn't take it so well when I left. Still…"

He trailed off with a yearning sigh. Auriana did not offer him comfort, not knowing how it might be received, nor even what she might do or say. It was remarkable enough that he was willing to discuss his family life so openly, and she didn't want to press. Instead, she kept her racing thoughts to herself; content to sit in silent contemplation until a rather unexpected question from Vol'jin cut through her thoughtful reverie.

"What about you, eh? Do you intend to bear children for King Varian?" he asked lightly.

Auriana's ears immediately burned hot, and she felt her throat go utterly dry. It was a perfectly reasonable question, given the context of their prior conversation, but it was something that she very much tried to avoid thinking about, and the casual way in which Vol'jin had asked the question had her thoroughly off balance.

"Oh… I… um… well… you see that's… that's a very complicated… complex… uh... complication..."

She spoke so quickly that she soon found herself tongue-tied, and she ended up quite literally choking out the last word. Vol'jin physically winced, and patted her gently on the upper back until she had finally finished spluttering.

"I'm sorry, mon, I take it dat not be somethin' humans typically ask one another," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean ta offend ya. Truthfully… I've not really talked ta many humans. I don't know all dat much about ya culture. Certainly not da specifics."

Auriana shook her head.

"You didn't offend me," she assured him, and it was true. She wasn't offended, merely… thrown. "Really. I mean… it _is_ considered something of a personal question, but… in my case there's a little more to it than that."

"Ya could talk ta me," Vol'jin said hesitantly. "If ya liked."

Auriana considered refusing him. She did not think he would push her if she did, though it seemed unfair to put up her walls when he had taken so many risks to open himself up to _her_. On the other hand, she could practically hear Mathias Shaw reminding her that he was still a member of the Horde, and that trust had its limits…

"I… Varian is a king," she started slowly, deciding that she didn't care. Peace would not be built on suspicion, and someone had to be prepared to take the first step. "Marrying him made me a queen… and there are many who consider it the duty of a queen to bear her king heirs."

Auriana had been fully aware that marrying Varian came with certain expectations, but even that knowledge had not prepared her for the reality. Whispers and stares often followed her throughout the Keep, and she could hardly miss the way her maids not-so-subtly checked the measurements of her waistline every time she requested a new dress. She believed that marrying him was worth it, of course, but there were certainly aspects of the experience that she would change if she could.

"Varian has always been unusual in that he only has one heir. He was expected to remarry a lot sooner than he did," she continued. "Frankly, if he hadn't met me… I don't think he ever would have. He certainly didn't plan to fall in love with me."

"It not be all dat different amongst trolls, actually," Vol'jin said sympathetically. "De old Zandalari kings used ta have many, many children. It was something of a necessity ta secure a bloodline - assassinations were very common."

Auriana nodded.

"Sadly, humans have come to the same logical conclusion. Varian would never pressure me the way the House of Nobles does, but I've seen how he is with Anduin," she sighed. "Hell, the whole world has seen how he is with Anduin. I think he _wants_ children with me, but I just can't shake the feeling that I wouldn't be very good at it. Being a mother, I mean."

"What makes ya say dat?"

"Parents are supposed to nurture and teach their children. I'm not exactly the nurturing type, and unless my child has a particular interest in killing demons, I'm not sure what else I can teach them."

Auriana had not spent a great deal of time around children, and practically none at all around infants. Child-rearing wasn't exactly a topic on the curriculum in Dalaran, and she had been a frontline commander ever since. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she knew how to _hold_ a baby, let alone do anything else with one.

"And then there's the matter of being pregnant, which is _terrifying_ , and… and… I'm sorry, this is wildly inappropriate..."

She hadn't meant to speak so plainly, but it was the first time she'd ever really given voice to her fears, and the words came tumbling out before she could stop them.

"No, please," Vol'jin said swiftly, his voice intense. "Dat's what we're here for, isn't it? Ta learn, and understand? Ta see dat maybe we're not all dat different after all?"

"I don't think this is what _anyone_ had in mind when they agreed to support the Tournament," Auriana quipped.

She turned her head further into the crook of his arm, and closed her eyes. She hadn't intended to cross the line, but it seemed that her tiredness and the question of children had been gnawing at her a great deal more than she had realised. There had been so much happening around the Tournament that she had been able to easily push all her complicated feelings about being queen to one side… and now she was paying the price, as they came bursting out at what had to be one of the least opportune moments.

"Perhaps not, but dat don't mean it be a bad thing," Vol'jin countered. "If it helps any, I probably told ya a good deal more den I ought ta have, too."

His voice softened, and Auriana could have sworn she felt the arm around her shoulders tighten.

"I take it ya haven't talked ta King Varian about all dis…"

Auriana sighed.

"No, I haven't," she confessed. "I love Varian… and Anduin, and Jaina… but sometimes I'm not sure I can talk to them about this sort of thing. It's… hard."

"Sometimes it be easier ta talk to a stranger dan someone who is close to da issue," Vol'jin said wisely.

"Yes, that's exactly it," Auriana agreed, somewhat surprised that he had so readily understood her concerns. "Though I'm not really sure I'd consider you a stranger at this point."

It was very difficult to feel remote from someone when one was effectively lying in their arms. Vol'jin was Horde, yes, but much like Zala'din, he was a living reminder that the Horde really were just _people_ , with the same kind of needs and hopes and desires as anyone in the Alliance. Auriana could never make peace with someone like Garrosh Hellscream, or Sylvanas Windrunner, but with a Warchief like Vol'jin, she felt like peace might actually stand a chance.

"Hmph. Don't suppose I'd consider ya a stranger either," he concurred.

Silence fell, and Vol'jin's breathing became deeper and more even. Auriana's eyelids had once again grown heavy, but before she allowed herself to drift off into sleep, there was one last thing she needed to say.

"Warchief… Vol'jin… what you've told me tonight… about your children, your family… I know you took a risk telling me those things," she said tentatively. "I would never use that information against you… and nor will anyone else in the Alliance, not so long as I draw breath."

Vol'jin let out a soft sound of acknowledgment and Auriana felt some of the tension that still lingered in his body slip away. She could not see his face, of course, but she imagined that he might even be smiling, and when he finally spoke, his voice was warm.

"I know," he said simply. "Dat's why I told ya. Goodnight… Auriana."

"Goodnight... Vol'jin..."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Happy New Year! Thank you to everyone who has read and followed this story in the past year, and I hope you will continue to enjoy my work in 2020. I am immensely grateful to each and every one of you for the time you put into reading and commenting on my story, and I wish you all a safe, happy and prosperous year ahead.**

 **Vol'jin**

After a night of fitful sleep, it was the faint sound of dripping water that finally roused Vol'jin to full wakefulness. Initially, he woke in a state of mild panic, confused by the dark and the cold stone and the odd orange glow all around him, until he remembered exactly where he was and what had happened the day before, with the bomb and his precipitous fall into the icy caverns hidden beneath the Tournament grounds. He had no real means of judging the passage of time, of course, but he guessed that it had been at least a few hours since he and the Queen of Stormwind had finally fallen asleep. Somewhat miraculously, they had not frozen to death during the night - and nor, fortunately, had they been devoured by whatever spiderous creatures lurked in the depths below.

Auriana was still asleep in his arms; her head tucked into the crook of his arm and one of her own small hands pressed against his stomach. Her unruly hair had fallen forward to cover most of her face, though Vol'jin could still see patches of her pale skin peeking out from between the waves of her dark locks. In truth, her pallor concerned him. While dull compared to a troll, he knew that her paleness was not entirely uncommon amongst humans - but surely they were not meant to be _that_ pale. Her breathing was also uncomfortably slow and shallow, and while she had previously insisted that she was uninjured, he began to fear that she was in more pain than she had first let on.

Vol'jin hesitated for a moment, then reached out to press the back of his hand against her cheek in a gesture of both concern and curiosity. He understood humans better than most of his cohorts, thanks to his time with Tyrathan Khort in Pandaria, but he had never been quite so physically close to one for so long. Auriana's skin was cool beneath his hand, and unexpectedly soft. Troll skin had a naturally rough and pebbled texture, making it difficult to rend or tear, whereas Auriana's skin was so satiny that it was like tissue paper by comparison. Vol'jin could scarcely understand how humans could survive with such scanty physical protections, and yet years of experience fighting both with humans and against them had taught him that they were a lot hardier than they appeared.

Vol'jin's moment of curiosity was short lived, however, as Auriana instinctively twitched away from his touch. He immediately pulled his hand away, feeling somewhat abashed, but she was already starting to stir. She mumbled something beneath her breath, the words too quiet for Vol'jin to hear, and a moment later her blue eyes slowly fluttered open.

"How ya doin', mon?" he asked quietly, placing a bracing hand upon her back as she awkwardly pushed herself back upright.

"Vol'jin? I… the cave… it… is it morning?" she asked, rubbing a bleary hand across her face.

"Ya guess be as good as mine," Vol'jin remarked, gesturing to the cloying darkness all around them.

Now freed of her weight, he took the opportunity to stretch out his sore, stiff limbs. His stomach was rumbling loudly, and his throat was bone dry. He had slept rough before, of course, but that made very little difference to his current situation. His back also ached where a sharp outcropping of rock had spent the better part of the night digging into his spine, and the less said about his hip, the better.

 _You're getting old,_ a distant voice in the back of his head laughed. Vol'jin ignored it.

"Ya look so pale," he added, shifting his weight. "I was startin' to worry."

"No need. That's how I normally look…" Auriana grinned, tapping a finger against the high arch of her left cheekbone.

She rose to her feet, stumbling a little as she stretched her own cramped muscles. Her dress had dried overnight, though it was now creased and dirty where it had once been straight and smooth. Vol'jin could also see a nasty bruise darkening her neck along her right collarbone, and a vicious scratch torn through the dark silk of her left sleeve.

"Ya sure?" he pressed, his concern genuine. "Ya be so cold… I thought ya might be sick… or injured… unless it be some kinda frost mage ting?"

"Not so much a frost mage thing as a 'me' thing, I'm afraid," Auriana said, shaking her head. "I've always run cold… even when I'm not trapped in a subterranean ice cave. And I'm not injured… or at least, not too badly."

She touched a hand to the point where her right shoulder met the curve of her neck, and winced.

"Speaking of injuries, though, I should check your wound."

Auriana gathered her skirts, and gracefully crouched back down beside Vol'jin's injured leg. She moved very slowly and carefully as she peeled back the layers of the makeshift bandage with gentle fingers, letting out a small gasp as she revealed his wound. Thanks to the natural regenerative abilities of his people, Vol'jin was already feeling much better than he had the night before. The jagged tear in his leg was not completely healed, though it now looked more like a wound that was two or three days old, rather than something that had happened only yesterday.

"That's... amazing," Auriana remarked. "How?"

"Troll healin'," Vol'jin grunted.

He knew that his leg would eventually need to be examined by a healer, if only to ensure that there were no shards of wood still embedded in his flesh, but for the time being, at least, it was relatively stable.

"So… can you walk?" Auriana asked, retying his bandage and returning to her feet once more.

She offered Vol'jin a hand, which he gratefully accepted. He braced his other hand against the damp stone wall, and with a surprisingly firm pull from Auriana, he clambered back to his feet. His injured leg protested as he tested his weight, but not so badly that he would be unable to walk. He had little choice, in any case - Auriana was strong, but still far too small to carry him effectively without her magic, and Vol'jin absolutely hated to be the weak link.

"Well enough," he concluded.

Auriana gave him a skeptical look; her bright blue eyes raking him from head to toe. Her gaze was so razer sharp that Vol'jin felt as if she could see right through him, and he subconsciously stood up straighter in an effort to convince her of his fitness. He was not as strong as he would have been without such a serious injury, of course, even with his natural ability to heal, but he was determined to be strong _enough_.

"In that case, we should attempt to outrange the dampening field," Auriana said finally, turning towards the tunnel mouth that led out into the cavern proper.

"Ya don't wanna wait?" Vol'jin asked, looking back towards the pile of rubble that separated them from the pool beneath the arena.

"The dampening field is still up," she huffed. "No-one has found a way through that wall, and…"

"And ya don't much like sittin' here doin' nothin'?" Vol'jin guessed.

Auriana pressed her lips together, and even in the low light Vol'jin could tell she was trying not to smile at the fact that she'd been made.

"Perhaps," she admitted sheepishly. "Do you disagree?"

Vol'jin could have denied it, but it would have been a lie. Much like Auriana, he was not the type to simply sit back and let things happen _to_ him. He had never considered himself reckless, but nor was he indecisive. He shook his head.

"A rescue doesn't seem to be forthcoming, and I don't fancy being trapped in a dead-end tunnel with nerubians about," Auriana added, leaving little room for further argument.

She strode determinedly over to the strange egg-light she had procured the night before, and hefted it up so it was balanced against her chest. It was a tad too big for her to put on her shoulder, and lacking some sort of backpack or sack, there was not really a better option. Vol'jin, of course, immediately made to offer to carry it himself, but Auriana waved him off before he could even open his mouth. Her jaw tightened stubbornly as if she expected him to argue, though Vol'jin knew her well enough by now to know that there was little point. She was a fiercely protective person, and it seemed that she was determined to alleviate the strain on his injury wherever she could - even if it meant lugging around a gelatinous egg that was almost half as tall as she. Vol'jin was affected by her concern, though it didn't make him feel any less like a burden as he limped further into the tunnel after her.

As they walked, Vol'jin soon realised that his leg injury was the least of their problems. It was difficult to keep track of time and bearing underground, without either landmarks, sun or stars for guidance. The glowing egg Auriana cradled in her arms was a useful light, at least, though Vol'jin couldn't help but feel that they were going in circles. The path they were on snaked up and down through the rock, and while it _seemed_ as if they were making forward progress, for all he really knew they were simply stumbling around in a never-ending maze.

Had the atmosphere within the cavern not been quite so unsettling, Vol'jin might have also taken more time to study their surroundings. Having spent most of his life on various tropical islands, he was used to all manner of exotic plant life, but the underground kingdom of the nerubians was something else entirely. As they walked, they passed a wide variety of fleshy, glowing plants; everything from green mushrooms the size of tauren to tiny luminescent buds whose lights winked out whenever he walked too close. Everything around them was uncomfortably moist and alien, and gave Vol'jin the uncanny sense that he was being watched. The skin at the base of his skull prickled in warning, more so with every step, and he sent a silent prayer to the _loa_ that they would escape the oppressive pit soon.

"Do you know what doesn't make sense?" Auriana asked, abruptly breaking the silence.

"Dere are a great many tings in dis world dat don't make sense," Vol'jin replied, carefully stepping around a giant, quivering mushroom.

Auriana glanced back at him over her shoulder, and her lips drew into a thin line. The egg-light she carried in her arms cast a haunting, ominous orange glow over her high cheekbones and wide eyes, and made her look particularly intense.

"The bomb. Why did it go off when it did? You and I had only planned to meet earlier that afternoon. There were no matches scheduled."

Vol'jin frowned. Between his injury and the immediacy of their predicament, he hadn't given much thought to the explosion that had caused the problem in the first place, though now that he thought about it, Auriana was absolutely right. He didn't want to believe that she had betrayed him, and nor did he think she was stupid enough to have risked her own life to do so, but the unescapable truth of the matter was that _something_ didn't add up.

"Did you tell anyone?" Auriana asked bluntly, clearly having arrived at the same conclusion.

"Zala'din," Vol'jin answered quickly. "How 'bout ya side of tings?"

"Varian. And I'm _fairly_ sure neither of them have a reason to kill us. I suppose there's always the chance that one of us was overheard… but _no-one_ could have predicted when we would have walked past that exact spot," Auriana grumbled. "That kind of bomb can't be detonated remotely, from what I remember of Thunderfist's little experiments at Wintergarde, it's pretty much a matter of 'set and pray'. So what happened?"

"Perhaps neither one of us were intended ta be in da line of fire," Vol'jin suggested.

It was the only explanation he could think of that made sense. Not that he had any idea who the actual target might have been, but it seemed highly unlikely that someone would have managed to coordinate so precisely around what had ultimately been a spontaneous gesture on Vol'jin's behalf. The Tournament was ripe with potential targets by its very nature, and it was entirely possible that they had been the victims of simple bad luck, rather than targeted malfeasance. Still, _someone_ out there was the intended target, even if Vol'jin and Auriana were not, and he wasn't sure which possibility he found more unsettling.

"You might be onto something there," she said slowly, nodding to herself. "But if not us, then who…?"

Auriana fell into an irritable silence once more, though Vol'jin could practically _hear_ her mind churning with thoughts as they continued further on into the dark. She was fiercely intelligent, and he knew that such a conundrum would bother her immensely. It bothered him, too. He had taken a great risk in enacting the Tournament, and for once on Azeroth, things seemed to have been going to plan. There had been tension, certainly, but also a definite sense of possibility, hope and camaraderie in the air. The bomb threatened to destroy all that, even if no one had yet died, and Vol'jin couldn't help but to start making his _own_ mental checklist of both possible targets and possible suspects as they continued...

Vol'jin guessed they had been walking for nearly another hour before Auriana finally came to a halt ahead of him. After brooding over the mystery of the bomb for a while, he had then passed the rest of the time by counting out his steps; the simple mental act helping to distract from both the dull ache that had arisen in his injured leg, and the nagging fear that they were walking down into their own cold graves. In fact, he was so focused on his counting task that at first he did not see Auriana pause, and he nearly walked right over the top of her.

She had not said another word since their brief discussion of the bomb, and Vol'jin wasn't sure whether it was because she was fixated on solving the mystery of the bomb's target, or whether because it was requiring more of her attention to stay on the path. The rocky track had narrowed considerably as they had continued, and it was now downright difficult to walk. Auriana doubtless had an easier time of it, given her smaller stature, though she _was_ carrying the egg-light, and Vol'jin had seen the heel of her boot slip precipitously close to the track edge on more than one occasion.

"Somethin' wrong?" he whispered, pressing a hand to the nearest rock wall for balance.

"The path up ahead turns into a cave," she explained, pointing. "I _think_ we ought to keep going that way, but… I can't say for sure."

"What makes ya tink dat be the right way?"

"I'm trying to feel for minute variations in the dampening field, but if I'm being honest, I'm mostly guessing," she sighed.

"How does feelin' out da field help us?" Vol'jin wondered.

As a shadow hunter, he too had a vague sense of the barrier keeping him from his _loa_ -blessed powers, though he doubted he was anywhere near as attuned to the effects of the field as a mage like Auriana.

"Well, the dampening spell is a little weaker near its boundary… if I can feel it changing slightly, that should give us a sense of direction," she explained. "But sensing tiny fluctuations in the field strength is difficult, if not nearly impossible, and frankly, it's giving me a headache."

She shifted the egg so that it was balanced on her right hip, and used her now free left hand to rub at her temple.

"It's times like these I wish Khadgar were here. He's much better at this sort of… touchy-feely magic," she grumbled, her impatience plain. "Not that this is really magic. More… sensing where the magic _isn't_."

"We can rest, if ya need?" Vol'jin offered.

His knowledge of arcane magic was scant at best, though he had been around it often enough to know that using it took a great physical and mental toll. Outwardly, it might have seemed like a great deal of easy hand-waving, but a mage had to be just as fit as any warrior.

"No," Auriana said firmly. "Unless you need some time off that leg…?"

Vol'jin shook his head. A rest would not have gone unappreciated, but he doggedly refused to ask. He already felt rather useless as it was, given that Auriana was both carrying the egg _and_ bearing the mental burden of trying to lead them to safety, and while he was not so foolish as to press on if his wound took a turn for the worse, he also didn't want to be more of a burden than he already was. His leg was fine enough for now, and he trusted the natural vitality and hardiness of his people to get him through.

"Da sooner we get out of here, da better," he said.

As if to add emphasis to his words, an eerie chittering suddenly echoed up to them from somewhere deep in the cavern below. The sound was harsh and high-pitched, like nails scraping over stone, and it sent an uneasy frisson rippling down Vol'jin's spine. It was difficult to tell whether the creature that had called was miles away or mere feet, such was the way sound reverberated in the cavern, and he instantly felt his muscles tense in wary anticipation. He had heard many stories from Horde warriors who had faced nerubians in combat, and he didn't fancy having to fight one off with a busted leg and no weapons.

For her part, Auriana's eyes widened, and she clutched the egg closer to her chest.

"The cave it is," she agreed.

Vol'jin followed close on her heels as she stumbled up the slight incline that led into the cave. Inside, it was damp, dark, and extremely cramped. Auriana moved with relative ease, but Vol'jin was so tall that he kept cracking the top of his head against the ceiling. The rock floor was also very slippery, and more than once Vol'jin had been forced to catch himself on the wall - and once or twice, Auriana's shoulder - as he struggled to keep his footing.

After another fifteen or so minutes of walking, they discovered exactly _why_ the ground had become so unexpectedly slick. After a brief rise, the tunnel dropped down sharply towards a pool of black, icy water. Auriana let an irritated snort of disappointment as she dipped the toe of her boot into the pool, sending ripples out as far as the eye could see. Evidently, the entire tunnel was flooded, and there was no way out save for through the water.

"We could go back…" Vol'jin suggested doubtfully.

Once again, it seemed that the denizens of the deep had heard him speak, for no sooner had the words left his mouth than another low, alien wail came floating through the cavern towards them. It sounded closer this time, more urgent, and deep in his bones, Vol'jin knew the truth. They were being _hunted._

"You were saying?" Auriana asked, raising her eyebrows.

She placed the egg-light down on the ground, wedging it between two rocks so that it wouldn't roll away, and turned back to face the still, dark water with a resigned sigh. She seemed to be wrestling with something in herself, and after a few moments hesitation, she then reached around to her back and began to tug awkwardly at the laces securing her dress.

"Give me a hand, would you?"

"Er… whatcha doin', mon?" Vol'jin asked, completely bewildered.

"Have _you_ ever tried to swim in a dress?" Auriana muttered. "Knowing my luck, it'd hook on a rock and drown."

"Swim… in a dress?" Vol'jin repeated. "Ya gonna get in da water?"

"I know we're trying hard to ignore it, but I think we're both very aware that _something_ is climbing up the cavern behind us," she growled. "This could be our only way out. I don't exactly fancy going for a dip, but we're running out of options, and from what I can sense… this is the right way. I think we have to try."

"I should be goin' first, den," he insisted, but Auriana took a swift step sideways to block his path.

Despite the fact that she was half his size, Auriana stared up at him as if she could stop him physically - which, admittedly, might not have been entirely out of the question. A troll's ability to regenerate after injury was nothing short of remarkable, but regeneration required both time and considerable amounts of energy, and several hours of walking on a leg that had only just started to heal had left Vol'jin a great deal more tired and pained than he cared to admit. He was no doubt faring better than a human or an orc would have in the same position, but that still didn't mean he was at his best.

"I'm smaller, and uninjured," Auriana countered, as if reading his mind. "I'll have an easier time scouting the tunnel than you will. And if something goes wrong in there, I'll have a better chance of getting out."

"And if ya drown? Ya don't know how far dat tunnel goes."

"Vol'jin," she said flatly, "You're the Warchief of the Horde. Of the two of us, you're the one who ultimately needs to make it out of this mess alive, otherwise everything we've worked for goes up in smoke. I'm the better choice for any number of reasons, and you know it. If I don't come back, then you'll know it's a dead end and you find another way out of here before those _things_ catch you."

Objectively, she _was_ right, though Vol'jin didn't like how casually she seemed to treat her own life. There were far too many reactionary personalities amongst the Horde leadership who would be more than willing to use his death under suspicious circumstances as a pretext for war. Of course, he doubted that Varian Wrynn would cope at all well with the loss of his wife, but on balance, Vol'jin figured that the human king had far more people around him who might persuade him from a path of violence and bloodshed - and it seemed that Auriana had made the same ruthless calculation. That didn't mean Vol'jin was comfortable with the fact that she was willing to risk herself without so much as a second thought, though he wasn't entirely sure how to convince her when the facts were on her side. He had thought _himself_ stubborn, but she was something else entirely.

"Auriana…"

"Please don't argue with me in a misguided attempt at chivalry. I get enough of _that_ from human men. I'll be fine - assuming you help me out of this damn dress."

Auriana tossed him a sly, confident grin, though her smile didn't quite meet eyes. She clearly shared Vol'jin's concerns for her safety, though apparently it wasn't enough to dissuade her from action. Sensing the futility of arguing further, Vol'jin then reluctantly offered his own fumbling assistance with her dress; the odd intimacy of the process making the _both_ of them flush blazing red. Fortunately, her dress was of a relatively simple design, and within a few minutes she had been stripped of her her outer layers so that she stood shivering in naught but an undershirt, a fitted bodice and a pair of thick, woollen tights.

Without the full skirts of her dress lending her figure dimension, Auriana somehow looked even smaller, and - not for the first time - Vol'jin vaguely wondered how she had ended up with a man as enormous as Varian. Still, perhaps her size in this case would be an advantage. There was a good chance that even if she did make it through the tunnel, he would be unable to follow by virtue of his width. If her instincts were correct, however, and the border of the dampening field were somewhere nearby, she could use her magic to either save him directly, or at the very least call for a proper rescue.

"If I _do_ drown…" she muttered, apprehensively dancing from one foot to another as she stared into the inky black water, "Tell Varian… tell him…"

She sighed.

"Oh, nevermind, he knows…"

Without any further adieu, Auriana then grit her teeth and stepped into the pool; her entire body going rigid in shock as she immediately plunged in up to the tops of her thighs.

"Khadgar's _whiskers_ , that is _chilly_!" she yelped, lifting her arms above her head as if it would somehow ameliorate the cold.

"Ya alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine… I'm f-fine," she insisted, though she was already visibly shivering. "Perfectly fine. It's practically a s-summer vacation to Stranglethorn in h-here…"

Auriana gave him a smile that was not at all convincing, and made even less so by the fact that she started to bob up and down in an effort to steel herself for the task ahead. She clenched and unclenched her fists in clear discomfort, and for a second Vol'jin wasn't sure whether she would actually dive. He couldn't blame her - it looked horribly unpleasant - and he, too, flinched as she finally took a deep breath and slipped beneath the eerie black surface with little more than a ripple to mark her passage.

What came next was perhaps the longest and most nerve-wracking experience of Vol'jin's life. Every second that Auriana was gone felt like an hour, and he began to imagine all sorts of horrible fates that might have befallen her. Drowning was the obvious threat, but that didn't preclude the possibility of her freezing to death first, or being eaten alive by some nasty tentacled creature lurking below the surface.

A minute passed, then another, and Vol'jin genuinely began to fear that she had drowned. His heartbeat thundered wildly in his ears and he actually stopped breathing himself, subconsciously testing how long she could possibly hold her breath. In the back of his mind, he began to wonder what would happen if he did somehow manage to make it out of the caverns without Auriana, and his heart grew heavy with dread as he imagined having to inform Varian of her death...

"Vol'jin!"

Auriana's sudden cry stopped Vol'jin's racing heart in his chest. Her voice was faint, and she sounded distinctly out of breath, but she was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"Vol'jin?!"

"I be here! Ya alright?" he called back, feeling rather breathless himself.

"C-cold, but t-there's a passage!" she shouted. "It's lighter through h-here, and I think I can see a way out!"

"The water be safe, then?"

"Ah… _m-mostly_? It might be a bit of a squeeze for you, but I think you can make it," she replied, her tone bright but oddly strained, as if she were forcing herself to sound cheerful. "It's more or less a straight line, though… though it's p-pitch black down there. K-keep your hand on the ceiling as a guide, and b-be careful with your feet - there's some kind of root system down there. It should only take you about a minute. I would have been f-faster, but I got my foot s-stuck."

Vol'jin wasn't sure he could sound quite as casual about having his foot caught while underwater in complete darkness, but apparently it was an everyday kind of occurrence for Auriana. He was a strong swimmer, having spent so much of his life living on islands, though diving for clams in the warm, clear waters off the Echo Isles was a far cry from swimming blind through a freezing tunnel. He glanced doubtfully down at the pool, and let out a resigned sigh.

"Vol'jin?"

"Yeah, yeah, I be coming'..."

Unlike Auriana, he had no impractical clothing to remove, and so he simply stepped off the rocky ledge and into the pool. He hissed as the water hit his knees; the shock of the cold racing up his spine with a speed that left him dizzy. While the cavern itself had been warmer than expected for an underground ice cave, whatever magical or geothermic forces heating the rest of the labyrinth _clearly_ did not extend to the watery tunnel in which he now stood. Still, there was no turning back now, no matter how uncomfortable he might have been. Vol'jin sucked in as much air as he could, and doing his best to ignore the biting sting of the cold tearing at his skin, dove beneath the surface.

Vol'jin was a seasoned veteran of many battles, but it took every bit of self-control he possessed not to succumb to a primal panic. There was not a single pinprick of light to be found underwater, and the rocks and roots and _loa_ knew what else scraped at his legs and back like a thousand grasping hands waiting to pull him further into the deep. The dark around him was endless and all-consuming, and his pulse accelerated wildly out of control as he fumbled to find the ceiling that would guide him to safety.

If he thought waiting for Auriana to swim the passage had taken an eternity, it was nothing compared to making the journey himself. He simultaneously felt as if he had been swimming for hours, and as if he had made absolutely no progress at whatsoever. The walls seemed to close in on him with every stroke of his arms, and yet at the same time he felt as if he were floating in an infinite void. It was confusing, disorienting, and frankly terrifying, and Vol'jin swore prayers to every _loa_ he could name that he would make it out alive. His lungs began to burn, his vision began to blur… and just when he thought he might pass out, he finally, painfully broke free of the merciless black water and sucked down a greedy mouthful of air.

Auriana was sitting on the edge of the pool, shivering, with her knees curled up to her chest. Her wet hair was plastered down her neck, giving her a rather drowned and miserable appearance, and she was still panting and struggling to breathe. She nevertheless broke into a wide, relieved smile as soon as she saw Vol'jin surface, and she immediately crawled forward on her hands and knees to help drag him out of the water.

For a moment, they sat on the edge of the pool in stunned silence, each entirely focused on recovering their breath. Auriana's hand remained firmly on Vol'jin's shoulder the entire while, and he was surprised at how much succour he took from such a simple act. Something about the pool had made him feel more utterly isolated than he ever had in his life, and words could not describe how comforting it was to know that he was not really alone. Auriana never said a word, but from the tightness of her grip and the haggard look on her face, Vol'jin guessed she had experienced a similar moment of terror during her own time in the tunnel.

"Are you… are you a-alright?" she asked finally, struggling to form the words through her wildy chattering teeth.

"Been w-warmer," he managed, his lungs still burning, "But I be breathin', at least."

"T-that's g-good," Auriana said, nodding. "B-breathing is… is good…"

Vol'jin reached out to place his hand over her own, and she knotted her fingers with his in a simple but meaningful gesture of solidarity.

"Let's never be doin' dat again," he said solemnly.

"No arguments h-here."

Auriana swallowed and shook herself slightly, before gently releasing his hand. Vol'jin visibly _saw_ her force fear down to somewhere deep inside, and her face hardened into an expression of cool, flinty-eyed determination.

"We need to keep moving," she said evenly, though Vol'jin could tell that her words were for herself as much as for him. "Come on."

Auriana clambered back to her feet, heedless of the trembling in her legs and her scant, sodden clothing, and strode off up the tunnel as if she were walking calmly through the streets of Stormwind on a sunny day. Vol'jin let out a soft snort of genuine admiration. Even without her powers, she was a very strong woman indeed.

As promised, the part of the tunnel they were now in was far brighter than the cavern deeps, even when they had been carrying the glowing egg. It was larger, too, and high enough that when Vol'jin finally managed to convince his own shaking legs to work, he was able to stand up to his full height. He swore he could also smell a change in the air as they walked - it was no longer quite so musty and damp, but fresher, colder, and a good deal more breathable.

Despite Vol'jin's growing fatigue, the promise of potential escape was enough to spur him on faster, and he loped up the tunnel right on Auriana's heels. She, too, increased her pace, and was practically jogging by the time they emerged into a large, vaulted cavern with slick walls and a rocky floor.

"I think can see a path to the surface!" she called excitedly… mere seconds before the ground in front of her abruptly _erupted_ , and an enormous nerubian warrior burst forth.

Auriana let out an involuntary squeal as she fell backwards and landed hard on her rear. At the same time, she automatically threw her hand outwards as if to cast a spell, only to soon realise that she had no magic to call on. Snarling, she let out a rapidfire series of expletives that would have made an orc veteran blush, raging loudly as she fought to dodge the bladed pincer thrust aggressively at her throat.

For his part, Vol'Jin managed to stay on his feet, but it was a close run thing. He stumbled backwards, grunting as the back of his head slammed into the rocky wall, though his situation was nowhere near as dire as Auriana's. She was trapped on her back beneath the spider warrior's bulk, forced to roll from side to side to avoid a flurry of strikes from the nerubian's legs. Its mandibles dripped menacingly as it loomed over her, and while she was doing a tremendous job of dodging thus far, she could not hope to avoid its attacks forever.

Snarling in defiance, Vol'jin barely paused to think as he threw himself bodily at the nerubian's side. The creature's neck and back were protected by a heavy, armour-like chitin that Vol'jin wasn't sure he could penetrate with a sword even if he had one, but his weight was at least enough to knock the creature off balance so that Auriana might scramble free.

She scooted backwards on her rear end, struggling to regain her feet as the hissing and spitting nerubian howled in fury and pursued her across the floor. It seemed to have decided that she was its preferred target, and Vol'jin's desperate charge had only managed to buy them a few seconds. Still, he persisted, wrapping his arms around the creature's right back leg and hauling back with all the strength he could muster.

The three of them struggled back and forth for some time; the nerubian slashing repeatedly at the grounded Auriana while Vol'jin did his darndest to pull it off. Unfortunately, Vol'jin was easily outweighed by the thrashing warrior, and he quickly realised that his assault was rather futile. He seemed to be mildly irritating the nerubian more than actually harming it, and he was just barely able to keep it from skewering Auriana. He desperately wished he had something - a weapon, his shadow hunter powers, a pointy rock - just about _anything_ that he might be able to slip between the spider creature's body plates to strike at the flesh beneath.

In his frustration, Vol'jin's attention briefly slipped, and in that split second the thrashing nerubian managed to tear a shallow gash across Auriana's thigh. She cried out in pain, and in a sudden flash of inspiration, Vol'jin realised there was one potential weapon in range that he had not considered…

While the spider warrior's back was heavily armoured, its segmented legs were rather spindly for such a large creature - and in that, Vol'Jin saw a chance. He quickly adjusted his grip on the nerubian's right leg, placing a hand on either side of the lowest segment he could reach, and grit his teeth. He was not a berserker in the same sense as Auriana, but his people were well known for their ability to summon short bursts of incredible strength and speed when under pressure.

Vol'jin called that strength to him now, unleashing a brutal kick at the same moment he yanked his hands upwards as hard as he could. His foot met the nerubian's leg right at the weakest part, and with a hideous crack of rending exoskeleton, he tore its tarsus clean off.

"Auri!"

Vol'jin hurled the severed limb towards her like a javelin, desperately hoping that she would understand his intent. Fortunately for the both of them, she was quick on the uptake, and she immediately threw herself to the side with her hand outstretched. She caught the detached leg as it fell through the air, and in a single, smooth movement, twisted it deftly in her fingers and thrust its razor-sharp, clawed edge up into soft, vulnerable flesh of the nerubian's open mouth.

The nerubian let out a furious, disbelieving wail as it died, which Vol'jin supposed was fair reaction to being impaled with one's own leg. A veritable flood of clear, sticky ichor rained down on Auriana from the creature's yawning maw, until it finally collapsed back on its thorax its with an oddly human expression of surprise now forever fixed on its many-eyed face.

"Oh, _ew_ ," she muttered distastefully.

"Complain later, Yer Majesty," Vol'jin quipped. "Right now we gotta _run_!"

A frantic gnashing sound bubbled up through the broken earth towards them, and while Vol'jin dearly would have loved to sit for a moment to catch his breath, he decided that he would rather _not_ wait for more nerubians to emerge. They had defeated one, yes, but he wasn't sure that the feat could be easily repeated. Instead, he hauled Auriana to her feet, ignoring both the slick layer of fluid that coated her arm and the sudden piercing pain that shot through his leg, and pushed her roughly into the tunnel ahead of him.

Fortunately, it seemed that her magical instincts had been correct. Thirty yards in, the tunnel took a sharp turn upwards, and after a short, intense climb, Vol'jin and Auriana burst free of the oppressive underground cavern system and out into the bright light of day.

 _Guess we were right, it_ is _morning..._

After so long underground, Vol'jin's eyes were ill-adjusted for light, and he instinctively flinched away from the sudden assault of blazing sunlight glinting off blinding white snow. Still, he never stopped moving, knowing that even the slightest delay might cost him his life. While he dared not look back over his shoulder, he could hear the hair-raising staccato of pointed pincers scrabbling for purchase on the rocky mouth of the tunnel.

Under normal circumstances, Vol'jin would have also easily outstripped Auriana, especially given that his legs were nearly as long as she was tall. With his wounded calf still mending and already fatigued, however, she had him at a distinct disadvantage. She was also far lighter, seemingly racing _across_ the surface of the snow rather than _through_ it, and she easily kept apace with him.

To make matters even worse, Vol'jin's foot abruptly caught on a rock or some other hard object concealed beneath the snow, and in barely a second he found himself sprawling face-first on the ground. He coughed as he inhaled a mouthful of snow, and instinctively covered his head in what was most likely a futile attempt at protection. He had managed to keep ahead of the nerubians by about forty yards, but they were deceptively swift, and he knew they would be on him in seconds.

To Vol'jin's genuine surprise, Auriana kept running, plowing onwards through the snow without so much as a backwards glance. Even if it were not for their conversation the night before, he would not have believed her to be quite so cold as to leave him to fend for himself against a pack of nerubians, but apparently, she did not share his sentiment. If anything, his fall appeared to spur her on faster, and she quickly left him far behind.

It seemed that Auriana knew something that he didn't, however, for a few seconds later she slid to a halt and whirled, her teeth bared in a feral grin. Her hands exploded with bright purple light, and Vol'jin quickly realised that her desperate sprint must have finally managed to bring her outside the boundaries of the dampening field. A second later, he felt a curious tugging sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his naval, and he was ripped through space to land roughly on his feet behind her.

Once satisfied that Vol'jin was safe, Auriana turned her full attention back to the nerubians. Three had emerged from the tunnels to chase them across the snow; their pincers clacking menacingly as they closed the distance. The frontrunner was the smallest of the three, outpacing its companions by perhaps a dozen yards, though its speed ultimately proved to be its doom. As soon as it closed in range, Auriana thrust both her hands upwards, and called down a giant pillar of fire that came rushing down from the heavens like the spear of an angry god. One second the nerubian was there, and the next he was simply gone; vanished in a cloud of ash that lingered briefly in the chill morning air.

Vol'jin blinked.

"You want _him_?" Auriana snarled, the naked savagery in her voice chilling Vol'jin to the bone. "You go through _me_."

As much as she may have looked about as physically substantial as a wisp, there was nothing phantasmic about her power. The air around her fairly cracked with energy, and Vol'jin was starkly reminded of the first time he had seen her fight, on a windswept clifftop in the wilds of Draenor. At the time, he could have sworn he heard the echo of Bwonsamdi's laughter in his ears as he watched her fight, and he was _sure_ that he heard the same amused, exultant chuckle now. Auriana traded in death, and the _loa_ of graves knew his own.

A churning ball of flame flared to life in her right hand, and while Vol'jin doubted the nerubians spoke Common, her intentions were abundantly clear. The two remaining creatures slid to an abrupt halt in the dust of their companion's demise, and let out a series of urgent, high-pitched clicks. They were sentient creatures, far from stupid, and they appeared to have come to the conclusion that engaging Auriana further was inadvisable. The larger of the two reared back on its hind legs, and with a loud, hateful hiss in her direction, turned and urged its companion back the way they had come.

Auriana waited until the were well and truly gone before she finally lowered her hands, and flopped down on the ground in a spray of snow. She was breathing rather heavily, and Vol'jin realised she must have been exhausted. Performing magic was tiring, and performing magic after a long, burdensome walk, a terrifying swim and a battle with ravening spider lords - on an empty stomach, no less - was doubtless doubly so.

"I take it you got ya powers back, den," he observed, collapsing wearily beside her.

Vol'jin, too, could feel a renewed strength in his connection to the _loa_. The dampening field had not severed the bond entirely, but it did make the connection feel muted and dull, as if he were trying to listen to someone standing on the other side of a very thick wall. Out here, with the cool air on his face and the crunch of fresh snow beneath his feet, he could feel their power all around him, and as always, it brought him a feeling of indescribable comfort.

"It would appear so," Auriana snorted, rubbing her forehead. "I don't think they were particularly interested in killing us, they just wanted us out of their territory."

"Dat, and dey didn't wanna end up fried."

Auriana conceded the point with a slight smirk, then raised her left hand. Her eyes flared, and a second later Vol'jin felt a curious warmth settle over him, like an invisible blanket draped around his shoulders. The cold felt as if it were being forcefully _pushed_ from his bones, and within mere seconds he no longer felt quite so drowned and frozen.

"Uh… thanks," he murmured.

He touched an experimental hand to his forearm, half expecting it to come away burned, but his skin felt just the same as always.

"And… thanks for savin' me from dat nerubian."

"You're welcome," Auriana murmured. "It was the least I could do, considering you saved _me_ from the one in the cavern."

"We make quite da team, huh?"

Vol'jin stretched out his aching leg, and took quick stock of their surroundings. They were sitting beneath the shadow of a curved, snow-covered butte, a hundred or so yards away from the edge of the precipitous cliff that marked the end of Icecrown Glacier. He could hear the crash of waves against frozen rock far below, and the faint whistle of the wind across the icy plain. The landscape was starkly beautiful in its own way, and certainly far more familiar and comfortable than the underground cavern had been.

"So… what now?"

He could see the Tournament grounds off in the distance, though the harsh glare of sunlight off the snow made it difficult to make out any details.

"Well, I assume _someone_ in the camp noticed my little light show," Auriana sighed, miming another flamestrike. "Hopefully they'll send riders out to find us; I'm not sure you should keep walking around on that leg."

She gave him a stern look, as if she weren't just as battered, tired and filthy as he was.

"Ya can't teleport us?"

"Not inside the barrier. I could teleport us about twenty feet that way," she said, pointing, "If you're feeling especially lazy."

"Nah," he conceded. "I can wait. I tink we both done enough walkin' for one day."

Vol'jin settled back against a mound of snow, and took a deep, steadying breath. He was far from unfit, but since becoming Warchief of the Horde he had spent more time behind a desk than out in the field, clambering through flooded caverns and fighting off deadly monsters. Part of him missed the immediacy and excitement of the front line, though the events of the last day had reminded him that life on the edge was not without its drawbacks.

He looked across to Auriana, intending to voice his observations out loud, only to find that she was staring off into the distance - not towards the Tournament, but up towards the small cliff overlooking their current position.

"Uh… whatcha doin'?" Vol'jin asked.

"There's something up there..."

Vol'jin followed her line of sight, though he couldn't see whatever it was that had caught her attention. He opened his mouth to say as much, but she flicked her wrist and vanished in a burst of light before he could manage to speak a single word.

 _I swear to all the_ loa, _if she manages to find more nerubians..._

He grit his teeth in consternation as Auriana briefly reappeared on the top of the butte, before she turned and stepped out of view. He might have said 'be careful', if he thought that there was the slightest chance she would listen, but he was rapidly learning that in these sorts of situations, she tended to do whatever was needed, without much thought for her own safety. She was not reckless, precisely, but she clearly trusted her own instincts above anything else.

"There's a dead man up here!"

Vol'jin frowned and shook his head, certain he had to have misheard.

"What?"

"I mean, a dead man… a man… who is… uh… _dead_ …"

Auriana let out a loud huff, audible even from a distance.

"I'm not quite sure how else to explain that…"

Vol'jin pushed himself awkwardly back to his feet, and limped closer to the cliff top behind which she had disappeared.

"What killed him?"

"I'm going to hazard a guess and say it was probably the giant, gaping slit in his throat. There's no sign of rot, which suggests he died recently…" Auriana called back, briefly popping her head up over the ridge. "Though he is a tad frozen, which confuses the issue a bit."

She disappeared once more, and Vol'jin heard a faint rustling sound.

"Hold on a minute, I'm going to bring him down."

"How you gonna do that?" Vol'jin wondered.

"You forget, I have my magic now."

Vol'jin couldn't see her face, but he could hear a distinct hint of satisfaction in her voice. Magic was clearly a very important part of her identity, and despite the strange and serious nature of their current predicament, she apparently still took great pleasure in being able to use her powers freely and without restriction. Vol'jin felt another strange tingle of electricity in the air as she cast her spell, and floated the body off the edge and laid it gently on the ground at his feet. Auriana herself followed a few seconds later, and immediately crouched down so that she could inspect the corpse more closely.

The dead man was human; tall, and particularly broad across the shoulders. He had a thick, heavy beard, and he was wearing a well-worn and rugged set of leathers and furs. His neck was a rather gruesome mess of blood where his throat had been cut, and in his hand he clutched part of a leather torc that had been slashed roughly in half. Vol'jin was no expert, but he had seen many corpses in his time, and he agreed the man had died only recently - perhaps even within the last day or so.

"What is _happening_ at this Tournament?" Auriana muttered, clearly more to herself than to Vol'jin. "A bombing that was apparently aimed at no one, a corpse out in the middle of nowhere…"

She began to pace back and forth as she spoke; wearing a shallow furrow in the snow with every step. Her brows were creased in a heavy scowl, and there was something in the particular set of her shoulders and the way that she walked that made her look uncannily similar to Varian - albeit a Varian that was only five feet tall.

"A cycle of endless war on Azeroth benefits _no one_. Certainly not in the long term," she grumbled, her nostrils flaring in growing irritation. "I know… I know how it feels to hate the Horde. To want revenge. But anyone with half a brain can see that it has to stop… so who, then, is trying to stop the largest step we've taken towards peace in _years_?"

"Folks with less den half a brain, I suppose," Vol'jin snorted.

He did not mean to make light of the situation as a whole, but he had noticed a faint arcane glow beginning to shine around Auriana's eyes. She was angry, so angry that she was practically _leaking_ magic in response - and while he hoped she wouldn't lose her temper, he didn't blame her. He felt much the same. As much as Varian, Auriana, and several of his own people had been instrumental in bringing his plan of a Grand Tournament to fruition, it was still _his_ plan, and it would ultimately be _his_ failure if it were all to come crashing down.

"I'm starting to think that 'less than half a brain' describes more people on Azeroth than I'm strictly comfortable with," Auriana agreed, with a rueful sigh.

She scrunched up her eyes and shook her head, as if forcibly dispelling her negative thoughts, and when she finally looked up again, her gaze was clear.

"One thing's for sure, though - there's definitely a saboteur at work. When we get back to camp, we need to start a proper investigation."

"Ya won't have ta wait too long, at least," Vol'jin said, nodding over her shoulder.

In the time it had taken for Auriana to find and retrieve the dead body, a small group of riders had managed to make their way out across the windswept snowplain. Varian Wrynn rode at the head of the group, still distinctly recognisable as he crouched low over the neck of his racing horse. Saurfang and Thrall followed close behind, though neither orc looked quite as comfortable on horseback as the King of Stormwind. A dozen Argent Crusaders brought up the rear, leading behind them a pair of riderless horses. Evidently, they had come with high hopes of finding survivors, though the possibility seemed to have done little to soothe Varian's temper.

"Auriana!" he bellowed, leaping from his horse before the beast had even come to a full stop.

He charged towards them like a rampaging bull, kicking up great sprays of fresh snow as he ran, before skidding to a halt mere inches in front of his bedraggled wife.

"Are you alright?" he demanded, grasping her left shoulder with an intensity that made even Vol'jin wince. "Are you _hurt_?"

His eyes were absolutely wild, and in that moment Vol'jin was starkly reminded of why the man had earned the sobriquet 'Lo'Gosh'. He had seen glimpses of the wolf during their battle in the arena, but it was nothing compared to the vehemence with which Varian now stared down at Auriana. He seemed to be struggling to restrain himself in front of Vol'jin and the others, though his frantic desire to embrace his mate was clear to all those present.

"How did you get all the way out here?" he continued, barely pausing for half a second to allow her to respond. "Why are you half-undressed and covered in… goo? And… is that… is that a _dead body_?"

While he ranted, he nevertheless had the presence of mind to unfasten the clasps of his heavy cloak and hold it out towards Auriana.

"Good morning to you too, Varian," she replied patiently, gently but firmly prising his fingers loose from where they dug into the flesh of her upper arm.

She appeared outwardly unfazed by their ordeal, though Vol'jin did not miss the gratitude in her eyes as she accepted the warm cloak and wrapped it eagerly around her slender form, nor the way she rested her head against Varian's chest when he abruptly abandoned all pretense of propriety and pulled her close to her body. Ostensibly, their embrace was nothing more than a practical means of exchanging warmth, but Vol'jin could tell just how much they needed each other's touch. It had been a long time since _he_ had held someone like that, and he felt a faint twinge of yearning deep in his chest. He was normally able to put such emotions to one side, but it seemed that his conversation with Auriana had stirred up feelings that were not quite as buried as he had thought...

"I'm fine," Auriana murmured, her voice slightly muffled by Varian's chest. "Cold and a little bruised, but... fine."

"Your leg?" Varian asked, frowning down at the bloody slash across her thigh.

"A scratch. Really," she insisted. "The Warchief here will need a healer, however."

"Warchief? You're injured?" Saurfang rumbled, his heavy brow creasing in concern.

"As da Queen said… just a scratch, mon," Vol'jin said dismissively, quickly forcing his thoughts back to the present. "Nothin' ta worry about."

In truth, his leg ached terribly, but he wasn't about to admit as much in his present company.

"That may be, but you should still speak to a healer," Auriana pressed, her tone a little too knowing.

She pushed away from Varian's chest so that she could see Vol'jin better, and fixed him with a stern yet compassionate glare. For all her concern over being Queen, she certainly spoke with the air of a woman used to being obeyed.

"I will," he promised, "But ya don't all need ta look at me like I be dyin'."

"Speaking of dying… did you _kill_ someone?" Varian asked.

Now satisfied that Auriana was not in any immediate danger, his attention now turned to the frozen corpse lying on the ground behind them. He did not seem surprised by the possibility, however, nor even especially perturbed. Evidently, he was willing to assume that if his wife had killed someone, she must have done so with good reason.

"What? _No_ ," Auriana protested. "We found him like that."

"What is a dead human doing out here in the first place?" Thrall wondered. "For that matter, what are _you_ two doing out here?"

"When da bomb went off and da floor collapsed, we fell into da pool beneath de arena," Vol'jin explained. "Dere was all sorts of debris fallin' down on us, so we sought shelter in a small tunnel."

"Which promptly collapsed," Auriana supplied drily.

"We spent da night recoverin' from da fall. When we woke dis mornin', no one had come ta rescue us, so we decided ta find our own way out," Vol'jin continued, noting the dark frown that crossed Varian's face at the mention of the delayed rescue. "Long story short, we den went for a swim, fought off a few nerubians, and… uh… dug up a corpse."

"Quite the eventful time you've had, Warchief," Thrall rumbled, raising an eyebrow as his gaze found the charred patch of snow that marked the final resting place of the nerubian scout. "Should we be worried about a nerubian counterattack?"

"I don't think so," Auriana said, shaking her head. "I don't think they liked us wandering through their caverns. We killed two of them, but they backed off pretty quickly once they realised that they would be unable to counter my magic. I don't think they'd risk more unnecessary deaths; at least not now that we're gone."

As they discussed the nerubian threat, Saurfang had knelt down to none-too-gently prod around the corpse with his large hands.

" _This_ man was not killed by nerubians - his throat was cut," he muttered, his upper lip curling in distaste. "Perhaps a clue?"

"Unfortunately, that doesn't really rule anybody out. We're at a Tournament with all the greatest fighters in the world," Auriana said grimly. "You could cast a net out there and rake in a dozen people all fully capable of inflicting this kind of injury."

"Knives, swords and other bladed weapons _are_ forbidden, Your Majesty," one of the Argent Crusaders piped up.

"You wouldn't need a knife," Saurfang grunted. "A shard of glass would do. Or a suitably sharp piece of flinty rock."

"It also doesn't preclude the possibility that someone somehow managed to sneak a weapon inside Tournament grounds," Varian growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Someone managed to make a bomb, after all."

He put a strange emphasis on the word _bomb_ , and he and Thrall exchanged a dark look. Both seemed edgier than Vol'jin would have expected, even when considering the circumstances at hand, and he quietly made a mental note to ask Thrall about it later in private.

"Speaking of the bomb… did you figure out who set it?" Auriana asked. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"No. We've had precious few answers so far," Varian muttered bitterly. "The explosion also did some significant damage to the runes controlling the dampening field."

His tone softened as he addressed his Auriana directly, and his expression grew tender and apologetic. Vol'jin also caught the slightest twitch in the High King's right hand, as if he longed to touch Auriana's cheek or stroke her hair, and was only narrowly holding himself back.

"I… that's why we couldn't get to you faster... or… or lower the field so you could get yourself out…"

"I figured as much," she said quickly, giving her King a reassuring pat on the arm.

Thrall cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we would be better served continuing this discussion back at the camp," he suggested. "There may be more of the nerubians you sighted, and I believe both the Warchief and the Queen would benefit from medical attention."

"Quite right," Varian coughed.

His gaze hardened, and in half a second he was the cool and commanding King of Stormwind once more; his brief expression of vulnerability vanishing as though it had never been.

"We should bring that body back with us," Auriana remarked. "Have him properly examined. Who knows, he might have even been connected with the bomb in some way."

She glanced to Vol'jin for support, and he nodded his agreement.

"Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but we only brought two spare horses," a second Argent Crusader reminded them. "One for you, and one for the Warchief."

"Not to worry, Auriana and I can ride double," Varian said smoothly, beckoning the riderless beasts forward. "The Warchief will take the first horse, and we'll secure the corpse on the second. Vol'jin - I trust you know how to ride?"

"I much prefer a raptor, but dis hardly be da time to be picky," Vol'jin shrugged, making Auriana grin.

Despite his outward confidence, however, mounting the horse proved to be rather difficult. The skittish beast clearly did _not_ appreciate having a troll for a rider, and it shied away from his touch. His leg also made things a bit complicated, but with a bit of grunting and swearing, he managed to pull himself up into the saddle.

Auriana had no such difficulties, for Varian simply lifted her into the air and sat her down on his horse's rump, before swinging easily into his own the saddle in front of her. The King of Stormwind's face was set, and he circled his horse impatiently as he waited for the Argent Crusaders to secure the dead body to the other riderless horse, while Vol'jin tried not to be offended by the fact that the beasts found him far more alarming than an actual corpse.

Eventually, the Argent Crusaders managed to secure the body in place, and they remounted their own horses alongside Saurfang and Thrall. Auriana had wrapped her arms around Varian's waist as far as they would go, though she twisted around slightly to give Vol'jin a brief, grateful smile before Varian heeled his horse away. They had faced many challenges together in the last day, and while Vol'jin was especially not looking forward to dealing with the inevitable fallout from the bombing, he felt more confident knowing that there were people like Auriana on the Alliance side fighting just as hard to preserve the peace. He had always known her to be clever and brave, but in the last day she had shown him a sensitivity and genuine empathy that he had not expected, but had welcomed nonetheless.

 _There will always be those who seek to tear us apart,_ he reminded himself, as he turned his own begrudging horse back towards the Tournament, _But together, we are strong… and not quite so different as we seem_.

It was a lesson he did not intend to forget.


End file.
